


Summer Lovin'

by BookDragon24601, cantando_siempre, MaroonWombat



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: "long" distance relationship, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Artist Grantaire, Background Les Amis de l'ABC, Cosette And Enjolras Are Siblings, Cute, Cute Grantaire, Emails, Enjolras is an Idiot, Enjolras/Grantaire-centric, Epistolary, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, GSA, Grantaire Has A Cat, Grantaire Has Issues, Grantaire is an idiot, Grease - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, Les Amis de l'ABC Shenanigans, M/M, Model UN, Musicals, Orchestra Pit, Panic Attacks, School Year, Someone gets hit by a car, Summer Vacation, Tiny Enjolras, enjoltaire - Freeform, grantaire's hoodie, injured grantaire, not much angst tho, set malfunction, short enjolras, soft enjolras, soft grantaire, tall grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24014086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookDragon24601/pseuds/BookDragon24601, https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantando_siempre/pseuds/cantando_siempre, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaroonWombat/pseuds/MaroonWombat
Summary: “You’re — you’re flirting with me?” Enjolras sputters. “Of all the inane things I expected at an amusement park —flirting?”“Well, if you can forgive me for complimenting you, I’d be quite interested in hearing about the evil deeds of the amusement park industry,” the guy offers, fidgeting. “You can call me R —” he thrusts out a hand after wiping it on his jeans — “and what shall I call you?”“Enjolras,” he says slowly, shaking R’s hand. “No full name?”“Nah, I prefer puns.”“And how would calling yourself by a letter be a pun?”“Now, that would be telling,” R smirks.-or: love letters are out of style, but loveemailsare in style; featuring banter, terribly sappy nicknames, and far too many jokes about squirrels (with more than a bit of falling in love)
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 100
Collections: Les Mis Big Bang: Quarantine Edition





	1. Summer Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!!! This is a fic for the Les Mis Big Bang: Quarantine Edition!! We hope this helps lighten everybody's day! This is told mostly through emails between Enjolras and Grantaire with a few snippets from their lives. We've had so much fun creating this world and being a part of this project (and there may or may not be a sequel in the future). We hope that you all like it!! Please leave kudos/comment if y'all like it!
> 
> hello! this work is the project of many late nights and lots of work with my partner, BookDragon6127, and our beta, MaroonWombat, who have both been absolutely lovely. this was my first time participating in such a big fandom event as the Big Bang and my first writing in over a year, and it was so much fun! it was also my first time writing with a partner - it was quite cool, because writing from enjolras’ pov was very fun for characterization purposes.  
> many thanks to the mods for creating and organizing such a huge event, and to both of my work partners for all their time and creativity. enjoy!  
> \- cantando_siempre
> 
> Hey!! This has to be one of my favorite projects I've ever done! Working with Cantando_Siempre and MaroonWombat has been absolutely amazing! I've never written with a partner and it was really fun! I don't usually write from Grantaire's perspective but I'm thrilled I had the chance to and it's really made me fall in love with the character. (I also have a ton of works to finish and I swear I am still working on them) I hope you all enjoy!!  
> -BookDragon6127
> 
> content warnings -  
> \- someone gets hit by a car  
> \- cursing (sh**, da**, fu**, etc)  
> \- very brief mention of conversion therapy  
> \- description of panic attacks and anxiety  
> \- biphobia/homophobia
> 
> credit - the title of the work is from _Grease _, because how could we not?__

Enjolras hates fun.

More specifically, he hates the kind of “fun” accompanied by exorbitantly high ticket prices, screaming children, throngs of sweaty, cranky people, and rickety deathtraps masquerading as enjoyable experiences. Self-induced adrenaline isn’t his vibe. Yet, here he is, stumbling off of the latest brightly painted near-death ordeal and struggling not to throw up. Courfeyrac is over by their backpacks, snickering as Enjolras tries to recover, while Combeferre’s cleaning his glasses and watching Courf with a fondly scolding expression.

“Why did you scream like that?”

Enjolras turns slowly, in the middle of tying his hair up off his sunburned neck. He’s faced with a guy about his age: dark, riotously curly hair stuffed under a ragged grey beanie; thick, arched eyebrows; a wrinkled green hoodie, rolled up to the elbows; used-to-be-white converse coated in swirls of multi-hued designs. He leans casually against the exit gate, wiry forearms crossed in front of his chest and head tilted to the side. 

“Hey, Apollo?”

Enjolras blinks. “Excuse me?”

“I heard someone screech like they were possessed by a harpy when we went over the drop. This one’s pretty tame, so I was curious who’d be that freaked about a kiddie coaster.”

“A  _ kiddie  _ coaster —”

“Sounds to me like you’ve got some impressive lungs. Though I can’t honestly speak to the overall lung quality, their owner certainly isn’t hard on the eyes,” the man smirks.

“You’re — you’re  _ flirting  _ with me?” Enjolras sputters. “Of all the inane things I expected at an amusement park —  _ flirting — _ I’d thought nothing could happen today that would be more absurd than the evident disregard for safety guidelines, worker protection, and general health, but you’ve gone and proved me wrong!”

“In other words, your friend with the impish grin and high-waisted shorts said you’d be a bitch if you didn’t ride the coaster, you went off about the inherent sexism in using ‘bitch’ as a derogatory term, and then your friend with the hot glasses had you buckled in next to him before you’d stopped to take a breath?”

“You — I — what _? _ ” Enjolras stammers. He feels like he’s hallucinating, still dangling at the peak of the drop, clenching Combeferre’s hand so hard his fingers are white. Where is this conversation going, and  _ why  _ does this unreasonably attractive guy seem to be hitting on him?

“Well, if you can forgive me for complimenting you, I’d be quite interested in hearing about the evil deeds of the amusement park industry,” the guy offers, fidgeting. “You can call me R —” he thrusts out a hand after wiping it on his jeans — “and what shall I call you?”

_ He’s definitely being hit on. _

“Enjolras,” he says slowly, shaking R’s hand. “No full name?”

“Nah, I prefer puns.”

“And how would calling yourself by a letter be a pun?”   
“Now, that would be telling,” R smirks. “How long have you been in town?” he inquires, loping down the exit stairs and weaving through the crowds of people. Enjolras stumbles, and R’s hand latches onto his wrist just in time to catch him from falling.

“That’s fairly forward of you,” Enjolras says, tilting his head. “First you flirt with me, and then you hold my hand without permission? One might think you had ulterior motives for holding a conversation with me.”

“Me?” R gasps, withdrawing his hand from Enjolras’s wrist to place it on his chest. “I would never.”

Enjolras hums in response, continuing onward underneath the flashing lights of the Ferris wheel. “I should probably go back soon. My friends will be wondering where I’ve disappeared to.”

“Ah, so you’re tied down? No possibility of escaping for a spontaneous ramble about the pier?”

“Unfortunately not. I think my future holds something more along the lines of traditional amusement park activities.” R looks oddly disappointed, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets as he kicks a wayward rock. The breeze picks up, sending wayward tickets and leaves skittering across the concrete and sweeping R’s curls into his eyes. Enjolras watches as R bites his lip, shoving a freckled hand through his hair. “But…”

“But?” R asks.

“We’re here for the last of our summer break, and we’re headed back to the horrors of high school in a few days. I think tomorrow’s planned as a free day — maybe we could take a rain check on today and meet up tomorrow?”

R grins, a flash of teeth. “Sounds perfect to me,” he chuckles, “providing you can get away for a few hours. Tomorrow, the pier at 4:00?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Oh, and golden boy?” R calls as he starts to walk away. “I hope you don’t mind getting wet.”

“Wait — what?” Enjolras stutters, but R’s gone, vanished into the crowd.

\--

“So?” Courfeyrac demands.

“So, what?” Enjolras groans, taking his jacket from where it’s slung over Combeferre’s arm and shrugging it on.

“Who is he?” Combeferre inquires. “He has to be quite intriguing to make you forget about how much you hate rollercoasters.”

“You know what I hate more than rollercoasters? Being tricked into riding one!” Enjolras says indignantly. “Courf, you promised you wouldn’t try to get me to ride anything!”

“Stop trying to change the subject! You can’t be that mad, it helped you meet your artist friend!”

“Artist?” Enjolras blinks.

“I will bet you ten dollars he’s an artist,” Courfeyrac announces, crossing his arms. “Only an artist would bother painting his shoes.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes as Courf drags him over to a cotton candy stand, Combeferre trailing behind. 

“So, when are you seeing him again?” Combeferre asks quietly.

“Why would I be seeing him again?” Enjolras replies, keeping his eyes trained on the flickering festival lights as Combeferre watches him.

“Enj, I’ve known you for years. You wouldn’t have agreed to walk with him if you weren’t at least somewhat interested.”

“He insulted me! And he had the nerve to compliment me, too, which is honestly such mixed signals and really irritating —”

“And you’re focusing enough on how he’s behaving that you’re worried about his signals, and you kept talking to him after he supposedly insulted you, and you’ve agreed to see him again.” “Also, you’re blushing, so that’s another dead giveaway,” Courfeyrac adds. Combeferre plucks the bundles of cotton candy out of his arms as Courf leans forward to gently tap Enjolras on the nose.

“Whatever,” Enjolras mutters, a smile quirking his lips against his will. “We’re going to the pier tomorrow.”

“Perfect!” Courfeyrac exclaims. “‘Ferre and I are going to check out the rest of the boardwalk, so there’ll be plenty of time for you and your boyfriend to hang out.”

“He’s not —-”

“Don’t challenge me, or I’ll crash your date,” Courf warns.

Enjolras sighs and resigns himself to his fate.

\--

“Meet me at the pier,” Enjolras mumbles under his breath, pacing in front of one of the boardwalk’s many piers. “What does ‘the pier’ even mean? The end, the beginning, the middle, underneath? Which pier are we even talking about, it’s the beach, there’s lots of —”

He’s abruptly stopped from pacing as he finds himself with a faceful of green hoodie. “Wow, Apollo, if you were that eager to hug me, you could’ve just said so,” a familiar face remarks from somewhere far above him. “Talking to yourself again? Somehow, the signs of insanity don’t make you any less cute.”

Enjolras can feel his cheeks flushing; he briefly contemplates staying right where he is, face planted comfortably in a broad, warm chest, until he realizes R is laughing at him, body shaking with the vibrations. That won’t do.

“You’re the one who — who just — walked right into me! It’s not my fault you’re so — tall …” Enjolras trails off, looking up at R. He’s squinting from the sun, eyes crinkled, and his grin is slightly lopsided, and Enjolras feels oddly like he’s going to swoon.

“So he goes from ranting to himself to not talking at all? Really, you’re about as mysterious as they come.”

His eye level is about at R’s chest — he looks closer and discovers a tiny, hand-stitched ‘R’ on the upper left of the hoodie. “At least I’m not going by an initial just to seem enigmatic,” Enjolras retorts. 

“There he is!” R cheers. “Back to his fiery little self. I didn’t realize you were quite so short. It must be the anger creating an optical illusion of height.” Enjolras opens his mouth to retaliate, but he finds himself being steered along the pier with R’s arm looped through his own. “Now, the lighting’s perfect out today, so I hope you don’t mind if I make an ill-advised attempt at a few paintings.”

Enjolras just now notices the beat-up, paint-splattered canvas bag slung over R’s shoulder, the contents of which clunk around as they walk. “Sounds fine to me. What do you paint?” he asks, trying to peek over at the sketchbook R flips open as they sit down on a bench.

“Oh, this and that,” R says airily, tilting the sketchbook out of Enjolras’s view. “None of it’s any good, of course, but it’s a stress reliever. What’s your normal outlet for all that righteous anger?”

Enjolras frowns. “Why wouldn’t your art be any good? I’m sure it’s excellent, if you practice enough to fill a whole sketchbook.”

“Now, I can already tell you’re one to avoid a question.”

“You just did exactly that!”

“Yes, but I asked first, and that makes all the difference, doesn’t it?” R counters, a glint in his eye.

_ Oh, it’s on. _

\--

Several arguments, lots of shrieking, and one set of dropped paintbrushes later, they’re standing under the pier with R soaking wet. 

“And who’s the clumsy one now?” Enjolras says smugly.

“Oh, you — it’s your fault I even dropped them, anyway!”

“How so?” Enjolras demands.

“You can’t just — standing there with the sunset and the framing, just —” R heaves a sigh and flops down on the sand, tossing his drenched paintbrushes next to him and trying to wring out his hoodie. Enjolras sits next to him and is about to venture into questioning when R’s head snaps up, peering at the sky. “It’s about to storm,” he declares. “Looks like a hurricane.”

The clouds are dark and swirling; the waves have increased in ferocity, slamming onto the rocks a few yards down the beach. “We’d better go back,” R says, standing up and offering Enjolras a hand up. “It’s a bad one coming.”

“Oh.”

“You okay, E?”

“Yeah, just … not expecting this to end so suddenly.”

There’s a hint of a flush on R’s cheeks, and Enjolras thinks he spies R’s hand shaking a bit before he shoves it in his pocket. “Well, I know we’re both leaving for school to start again, and I honestly think we’ll leave even sooner than expected with the hurricane,” R hesitates.

Enjolras tilts his head in a question, feels an odd tension in his stomach.

“But … maybe we could keep in touch?” R finishes awkwardly.

“I’d love that,” Enjolras rushes out.

“Oh! You … you would?”

“Of course, R. Can I give you my email?”

“Not a texting kind of guy?” R teases, fidgeting with his hoodie strings. “What next, maybe a messenger pigeon?”

“Email’s just more my thing. Work for you?”

“Definitely.”

They part ways at the boardwalk, R clutching a scrap of scribbled-on paper in his fist and Enjolras absentmindedly checking his pulse on the walk back. He’s had some weird heart rate fluctuations recently — maybe he’ll see a doctor when he gets home. No other explanation for a racing heart, right?


	2. August

At the angry screeching of his alarm clock, Enjolras rolls over, hair a tangled mess, and grabs for his phone. The screen lights up after a few frustrated taps —

_ No new email notifications. _

He groans, and finally gives in to press the call button.

“‘Ferre, he still hasn’t emailed,” he moans.

“Enjolras? E, it’s literally six in the morning.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m trying to prep for school scheduling. Look, he still hasn’t emailed and I just —”

“Enj. There’s nothing you can do. He has your contact info, and you’ve just gotta wait. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s only been a week.”

“A week! A week, Combeferre, and nothing! Was I a complete idiot?”

“Other times, yes; now, no. All you can do is wait, E.”

“Fine, fine. Sorry for waking you up, ‘Ferre.”

“That’s ok, Enj. Anytime. I’m going to go back to sleep now.”

“Ok.”

“Try not to stress about it.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you listening?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Bye, ‘Ferre.” Enjolras sighs, rolling back over and burrowing under his pillow.

_ Nothing to do but wait. _

\--

The email comes a day later, when Enjolras is washing dishes. His phone is perched on the windowsill, “Honey, Honey” by ABBA blasting out of its speakers, when it vibrates. Enjolras scrambles to grab it, fumbling with a plate and almost dropping his phone into the sink — 

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ August 17, 2018, 10:18 AM _

**Hey?**

_ Hey, this is R, we met at the boardwalk and I’m hoping this is the right email. I mean seriously man, you have the handwriting of a squirrel. Anyway, email me back if you’re you. _

_ -R _

Enjolras thinks he might be about to stop breathing. A series of rambling thoughts sprint through his mind —  _ why didn’t you email sooner I thought you were dead did you drop your phone in the ocean too —  _ before he’s confronted with the terrifying reality.

He has to reply.

What does he say? What subject does he bring up with someone he barely knows (but really,  _ really  _ wants to know better)?

Enjolras takes a deep breath, sets his phone down. His hands are shaking.

He almost lets himself call Combeferre to plead for help, or Courfeyrac for flirting advice — but no. He can do this.

_ Just be cool _ .

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ August 17, 2018, 12:08 PM _

**Re: Hey?**

_ Hi, R. It’s nice to hear from you. The hurricane ripped up the coast and sent lots of people out of jobs, so I’ve been working with the ABC to figure out something we can do for disaster relief. How have you been? Did your precious paintbrushes survive their mysterious drop in the ocean?  _

_ A squirrel’s handwriting? Quite creative of you.  _

_ \- Enjolras  _

(His email is far too calm for how absolutely terrified he feels.)

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ August 18, 2018, 2:07 PM _

**Questions**

_ Okay so first, what the hell is an “ABC”. Second, my aunt lives down there, so now I’ve got my aunt and her wife staying with me so that’s cool. And my paintbrushes are… completely destroyed, but I can just use the crap ones at the school. How are you? _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ August 18, 2018, 8:11 PM _

**Re: Questions**

_ The ABC is the name of our school’s student activism group. The full name is Les Amis de l’ABC, but that’s too intellectual for most of the people at this school, so we shorten the name.  _

_ It’s a shame your heroic dive off the pier was for naught, though I still question why you dropped them in the first place. Who gets that enamored with a regular sunset? Either way, pardon me for blocking your view; wouldn’t want to crash your love affair with the sun.  _

_ How are you? How are your aunt and her wife? Tell me about them? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ August 18, 2018, 12:21 AM _

**Re: Re: Questions (also known as answers)**

_ Really, a French pun? And a student activism group is contradictory. Like jumbo shrimp. And I dropped them because suddenly there were two suns.  _

_ Excuse you, a “regular sunset”? It was a rainbow! I couldn’t not paint a gay sunset.  _

_ My aunt got married two months after same-sex marriage was legalized (her wife is a wedding planner and she’s a baker, it was easy). You have yet to reply with an actual subject. And it’s my turn for questions, if that’s alright with you :) _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ August 19, 2018, 11:35 AM _

**Re: Re: Re: Questions (also known as answers)**

_ You’re one to talk about puns, considering your email address. Care to explain why you seem to have a vendetta against student activists? There’s no reason that we shouldn’t fight for change — even if adults aren’t too fond of us making noise. _

_ I wouldn’t compare us to jumbo shrimp, though. Feuilly, one of our members, would probably use it as an excellent opportunity to call me short (again). _

_ How can there be two suns? Honestly, R, I know you’re an artist, but I don’t see how “artistic license” extends to defying science. The rainbow was quite lovely. _

_ I’m glad they were finally able to get married, though it aggravates me that they had to do all the work for their own wedding because of other people’s bigotry.  _

_ What subject would you prefer? Our current subject line will hit a word max if we don’t think of a more specific topic.  _

_ Ask away. _

_ -Enjolras  _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ August 20, 2018, 6:35 AM _

**How bout ‘Q &A’**

_ In terms of student activists, students are useless. Who’s going to listen to a bunch of kids? And using jumbo shrimp to call you short is exaggerating. Maybe mini shrimp. Or small shrimp if you want alliteration. _ _  
_ _ And the two suns has a very clear explanation, there was the flaming ball and then Apollo. _

_ For their wedding, they did the work because my aunt didn’t trust anyone else. But the venues not accepting them, THAT was bigotry. They ended up getting married on the beach so that was nice. _ _  
_ _ What classes are you taking this year? _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

August 22, 2018, 7:27 PM

**Re: How bout ‘Q &A’**

_ I agree that actually being taken seriously by adults can be … challenging, but that’s no reason not to try. What are you, a pessimistic, existential nihilist? I don’t think nihilists can take that much delight in a rainbow sunset. I will choose to ignore your insinuation that I’m short, and instead point out that mini shrimp and small shrimp are redundant terms. Shrimp are small by definition. _

_ I can’t say I know an incredible amount about mythology, but weren’t Apollo and the sun (or “flaming ball”, as you so eloquently phrased it) the same thing? Here I was thinking that you were the mythology nerd. _

_ Nice to know that the beach isn’t homophobic, though the same can’t be said for a great deal of the world. _

_ I’m taking APUSH, AP Lit, Honors Calc, Honors Physics, and my school’s sorry excuse for a Political Science course. Classes just started two days ago, and I’ve already made a … less than favorable impression with my Poli Sci teacher. I’m also playing oboe for our school musical (which is apparently Grease? just announced as of yesterday), working with the ABC and the GSA, and prepping for the big MUN state-wide competitive conference. You? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ \-- _

Grantaire finally got all his school supplies and has started working on painting his backpack. One part he’s working on has a greek myth on it. He hadn’t decided yet, but as he starts sketching he’s hit with the realization that he’s making the boy he met at the beach, Enjolras. Swearing under his breath, he starts changing it subtly to the myth of Achilles and Patroclus, only then he realizes that he’s only projecting even more. He groans and lays back on the floor.

“Shit,” he sighs. “I’ve got a crush.”

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ August 24, 2018, 7:27 PM _

**Q &A**

_ Dude, again with the “re:” subject line. _

_ And yes I am a pessimistic, existential nihilist, thank you for noticing. And you are a shrimp, man. You’re like five zero. Can we agree on shrimpy? _

_ Nope. Apollo pulled the sun across the sky in a gold chariot (although some say it was Helios but Apollo fits you better) _

_ Beaches are generally gay-friendly and when you’ve got a beach, who needs the rest of the world. (God damnit, now I have summer lovin’ stuck in my head. That’s what being stage manager for your high school’s production of Grease does to ya) _

_ What the hell is APUSH? And you? On the wrong side of a teacher? C’mon, I met you for a week and even I could tell that you’re a teacher’s pet. I’m going on-grade everything plus b-level math and two periods of art, no lunch and of course gym. Playing for student orchestra/pit is always fun, it’s a good program, at least at our school. _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ August 25, 2018, 5:02 AM _

**Re: Q &A (just to piss you off)**

_ You’re quite welcome. It’s hard not to notice when someone you’re quite interested in talking to expresses disdain for your passion for social reform.  _

_ I am not shrimpy, you’re just a giant. _

_ Apollo “fits” me well? So, you’ve called me a shrimp and a nonexistent deity. As I said, I don’t know much about mythology, so I expect a subtle insult somewhere in there about burning, foolish ideas that are “useless” (your words, R, not mine). _

_ Apparently calling someone out on bigotry and racism “isn’t conducive to a productive classroom environment”. _

_ Grease, huh? Quite common in high schools, I guess. What does stage managing entail? I don’t have much experience with the onstage (or backstage, I suppose) part of productions. _

_ APUSH: AP United States History. I blessedly forgot the horrors of mandatory gym class, until you reminded me. Two periods of art … are you looking to make it a career? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ August 26, 2018, 9:15 PM _

**Q &A 1.5**

_ First of all, bitch _

_ Okay, how tall are you? Prove me wrong. _

_ You just have that golden-god-ness. It's not an insult, it's a flirt, but hey, who am I to judge.  _

_ And Grease was the only thing my director, choreographer, and musical director could agree on. _

_ Stage managing is basically directing the whole crew and running set design. _

_ Gym is hell. I’d rather take two math classes and that’s coming from the kid with dyscalculia. _

_ If I’m gonna tell you what I want my career to be...Promise not to judge, Apollo?  _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ August 28, 2018, 1:30 PM _

**Q &A 2**

_ ^I’ll number you to hell, R. Fight me. _

_ I’m tall enough to yell in people’s faces, and that’s all I need from life. Physical height is irrelevant versus mental. _

_ Well, count yourself lucky that they managed to agree at all. Auditions are tomorrow, and my friend Combeferre (he’s the pit director) is flipping out about preparing on short notice. What are your friends like? Do they do stage work too? _

_ I could never do stage managing; trying to corral my friends into being productive is hard enough, much less an entire cast of immature high schoolers. Either way, they’re incredibly lucky to have you. Anyone would be. _

_ Gym class is … not my forte. Neither is math.  _

_ No judgment…for you, R? Of course. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ August 30, 2018, 6:47 AM _

**Q &A 3**

_ Aww come on, I met you in person, I know you’re short, please tell me your height _

_ Some of my friends do stage work. Some do makeup and costumes. Looking at you Jean.  _

_ I don’t wrangle as much as I just wander and they follow like ducklings. Why thank you, I’m flattered. _

_ I feel your struggle with gym. It’s a total pain in the ass. _

_ Aw, I’m blushing. I want to be a set designer. You? _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ September 1, 2018, 12:39 PM _

**Q &A 5’2”**

_ So, Jean does makeup and costumes; I know someone who works in costuming too. Anyone else? One of my other friends, Courfeyrac, hasn’t stopped stressing about when the cast list at our school will be out, and auditions were only a few days ago. Cosette, my sister, is freaking out almost as much as Courf. Combeferre pretends he’s calm on the outside, but he’s just as frenzied. _

_ With your art skills, I don’t doubt in the slightest that it’ll happen. I’d like to do something in politics; perhaps a UN ambassador or something along those lines. What do you like to draw when you’re not designing sets? _

_ Flattery and blushing are always my goals with you, to be fair. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ September 3, 2018, 8:20 AM _

**Q &A 4**

_ Awww you’re snack-sized :D! _

_ Most people freak over the cast list. I’ll let you in on a secret, in most school shows, they let anyone in.  _

_ Oh, I am freaking out. Have you seen the set? It’s insane. I have to make a goddamn car that transforms. _

_ UN ambassador sounds fun. I’d peg you for the lawyer type though. I like drawing everything from angels to demons to squirrels. _

_ Is that your flirting? _

_ -R _

Enjolras slings his backpack over his shoulder as the bell rings, preparing to navigate through the hallway teeming with teenagers. Rehearsals are starting today; he’s honestly not sure if he can balance the rehearsal time with everything else that’s going on, but he’s gotten himself into it anyway. 

He walks into the auditorium to find it full of people, the lights blazing. Combeferre’s presiding over the pit, directing the nervous freshmen on where to set up their instruments. Enjolras walks down the aisle, peering toward the stage. The set crew has tacked up drawings and sketches all over the walls and floor to mark where different set pieces will go; Courfeyrac and Cosette are standing in the middle of the stage, reading over their scripts. 

“How’s it feel to be a lead, ‘Sette?” Enjolras calls.

“It’s really fun so far!” his sister squeals, rushing over to the edge of the stage. “Jehan’s the costume designer this year, and they already said I could bring some of my vintage dresses from home.”

“So, my extra closet space might not be polka-dot-infested anymore?”

“Oh, hush,” Cosette laughs. “Don’t be too cranky, or you might get caught in the crossfire soon.”

“The what?”

Courfeyrac suddenly appears next to Cosette, hugging her. “Enj, I know you love your sister, but I regret to inform you that I love her more.”

“Why, exactly?”

“Nothing!” Cosette chirps. “Just watch out, or you might find yourself covered in glitter sometime soon.”

“Right,” Enjolras says slowly. “I’d better go. Combeferre’s probably ready to start.”

“Have fun! Courf and I are going to visit costuming, so we’ll see you later.”

Enjolras finds his seat and picks up his oboe. 

“Jason, how did you manage to get an  _ apple  _ stuck in your trumpet?” he hears Combeferre ask, a tinge of frustration in his voice.

It’s going to be a long rehearsal.


	3. September, Part 1

Courfeyrac fumbles his way through the dark wings of the stage, searching for the stairwell to the changing rooms. Cosette actually didn’t need to visit Jehan again, since she’d already talked to them about costuming. He thinks he sees the stairway door, but it turns out to just be a storage closet. 

“If you’re looking to make a joke about being in the closet, I don’t think that’s the one for you. Crammed with supplies.” Someone says from behind him.

“I would, but I think that cat’s out of the bag already,” Courfeyrac laughs. “I’m supposed to go upstairs to talk to costuming. Any clue where the stairs are?”

“Definitely a good idea to ask for a guide,” the voice responds. “I’m stage managing, and I can’t even figure out what half of this shit is around here.”

Courf feels a hand tap his shoulder, and he turns around. It’s so dark that he can’t figure out any features of the helpful stranger, who gently leads him over to a door in the corner. “Much appreciated,” Courf grins. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to haunt a theatre, and a high school auditorium wouldn’t be my first choice.”

“Anytime,” the mysterious man chuckles. “Best of luck with costuming.”

Courf cracks the door open, and a shaft of light spills across the floor. He peers into the shadows after his helper. He’s already vanishing, but Courf catches a glimpse of his shoes, which are — covered in  _ paint _ ?

\--

Later, Courfeyrac’s been plopped down on a hard-backed chair, Jehan flitting around him to gather fabrics and costume pieces from the school show stock. Courfeyrac’s mind is racing — there’s only one person he knows who has painted shoes.

“Hey, Jehan, do you know who the stage manager is for  _ Grease _ ?”

“Oh, that’s Grantaire,” Jehan hums. “He’s the lead set designer too.”

“Any chance Grantaire goes by R?” Courfeyrac ventures.

“Yeah,” Jehan says absentmindedly. “He’s weirdly obsessed with puns — Grantaire, grand R, capital R initial, so on and so forth.”

_ No way. _

“Jehan,” Courfeyrac says slowly. “Do you want to make a bet?”

\--

“Alright, so here’s how it’s gonna work,” Courf says, pulling out a chart. “Each of you will place your bets on how long it’ll take our resident dumbasses to clue into the fact that they’re literally at the same school.”

Combeferre shakes his head. “Courf, I highly doubt it’ll take them too long.”

“Oh, don’t count on that,” a girl with dark, intricately braided hair counters. Jehan brought her along — they say her name is Éponine, but Courf is of the opinion that someone that scary needs a scarier name. “R is entirely preoccupied with how ‘amazing’ and ‘terrifyingly hot’ your Enjolras is. He’s literally gotten stuck in the wing curtains because he was too distracted smiling at his phone.”

“Plus, ‘Ferre, you know Enjolras just as well as me,” Courf points out. “He’ll be so freaked out by figuring out how to flirt without actually flirting that he won’t pick up on context clues at all.”

“Smart with school and social justice, completely oblivious to romance,” Cosette comments. “That’s my brother for sure.”

“I could help them run into each other,” Jehan offers. “R comes to me for help with set design ideas, and I could ask Enjolras a question about GSA or something.”

“No, that’s one of the rules,” Courfeyrac interjects. “Absolutely no outside help. They have to figure it out on their own, or all bets are off.”

“Hold up — Enjolras is in GSA?” Éponine asks, looking delighted.

“You’d be better off asking what Enjolras isn’t in,” Feuilly mutters. 

“If anything, Feuilly, he got that from you,” Marius points out.

“Regardless — R signed up for GSA too. He can only go Tuesdays and Thursdays, though, because he’s got set stuff the rest of the week.” Éponine continues.

“They’re literally never going to meet,” Cosette marvels. “Enj goes on opposite days for his schedule.”

“Place your bets, everyone, and make them good. This is going to be more pining than Jane Austen could even dream of.” Courf grins.

_ \-- _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ September 5, 2018, 6:24 PM _

**Q &A 6**

_ Snack-sized? I will end you. _

_ I haven’t seen the set, but a transforming car sounds more like the realm of cartoons than set design. Keep me updated on the magical car creation efforts. Not sure what our set’s going to be like, but rehearsals just started today. Cosette got Sandy, so she can finally put her vintage dresses to use; she and Courfeyrac are far too gleeful about playing leads opposite each other, so I’m expecting some sort of glitter-infused prank.  _

_ Lawyering is appealing, but not so much when you end up forced to defend corrupt corporations to pay the bills. _

_ Squirrels … an inspired choice. Any reason for squirrels in particular? Perhaps a future pet? _

_ With regard to flirting...Why do you ask? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ September 8, 2018, 2:46 PM _

**Q &A 7**

_ Come at me, shorty _

_ I’ll keep you updated. I’m very lucky that the crew don’t work on stage until the month of and set builders do our shit on other days, so there’s no fighting. Good luck with the glitter, that sounds like a disaster and I pity the crew who needs to clear that up. _

_ Just… don’t defend them then? _

_ Eh, I’ve got a thing for small, angry, cute creatures. _

_ Hey, I thought I was the paranoid one! _ _  
_

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ September 8, 2018, 5:47 PM _

**Re: Q &A 7**

_ Paranoia has nothing to do with being nervous, R. Happens frequently when I’m talking to you. _

_ -Enjolras  _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ September 8, 2018, 6:02 PM _

**“Re:”?**

_ Nervous? Around me? _

_ -r  _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ September 8, 2018, 11:23 PM _

**Re: “Re:”**

_ Always. _

R hasn’t answered in days.

Now, it’s normal for there to be a gap between replies — they both keep bizarre hours, and their schedules don’t match up. Enjolras just feels … off. 

“And honestly, Courf, I just don’t get it?” he rambles, helping Courfeyrac wrangle his too-tight leather jacket off of his shoulders; there’s only so much Jehan can do with limited school funding and costumes designed to fit middle schoolers. “He was being so  _ obvious  _ with the flirting, so I tried to flirt back, but maybe I was too much?”

“Let me read it again, Enj,” Courf says, reaching for Enjolras’s phone. “I’m sure you were perfectly lovely,” he reassures him.

Enjolras waits, impatient, his foot drumming on the floor and his fingers fiddling with his ponytail. The set crew comes into the auditorium while Courfeyrac is reading, chattering as they walk down the aisles. Enjolras observes them, mind drifting, but suddenly blinks when a spotlight turns on and roves over the seats. “Ép, I kinda need my eyes to paint sets!” someone yells from the pool of light, voice hoarse and deep, and Enjolras squints. He could swear he sees a flash of curly hair, a green hoodie — 

“Yeah, Enj, I think you’re totally fine,” Courfeyrac says, squishing him in a side hug. Enjolras nods, glances at Courfeyrac and then turns back to stare into the shadows, but there’s nothing there other than a crowd of paint-splattered underclassmen.

_ God, he misses R so much he’s hallucinating him into a school auditorium. _

“Great,” Enjolras mumbles, takes his phone from Courf with clammy hands. He feels it vibrate — instinctively swipes up into his email, scans the screen —  _ Apply for StateFarm Insurance Today! _

Junk mail.

Junk mail, and no R in sight.


	4. September, Part 2; October

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ September 14, 2018, 7:24 PM _

**BOOORRREEEDDD**

_ I’m stuck at this damn set meeting for no reason, so I’m bored. I miss my pasta gay  _

_ -R  _

Enjolras barely reacts when he gets the notification, so used to being faked out that he doesn’t process the sender’s email address until he reads it a third time. He can feel his chest clench, and his hands immediately fly to his hair, twisting it around his fingers until they go numb. He answers within minutes, not even bothering to wait or try to keep some semblance of nonchalance.

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ September 14, 2018, 7:30 PM _

**Re: BOOORRREEEDDD**

_ Pit’s been pretty boring too, lately.  _

_ I’m pretty sure that’s a pun, but I’m not sure what the basis is, this time. What are you talking about? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ September 16, 2018, 10:55 AM _

**Re: Re: BOOORRREEEDDD**

_ Yeah, but in pit you can still do something.  _

_ Well it’s easy how I got to pasta gay:  _

_ Enjolras _

_ Enjolrass ; ) _

_ Enjolri _

_ Enj _

_ En _

_ An _

_ Ange _

_ Angel _

_ Angel hair _

_ Pasta _

_ Pasta boy _

_ Pasta Gay _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ September 16, 2018, 3:41 PM _

**Absolutely Not**

_ No. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ September 17, 2018, 3:45 AM _

**Please?**

_ How about Angel Hair? _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ September 17, 2018, 6:11 AM _

**Absolutely Not, pt2**

_ Nope. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ September 17, 2018, 6:55 AM _

**Well, at least it wasn’t “Re:”**

_ How bout Enjolrass? _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ September 17, 2018, 4:32 PM _

**Re: Well, at least it wasn’t “Re:”**

_ ABC consensus: objectifying. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ September 18, 2018, 10:45 PM _

**Bitch**

_ Enjy? _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com  _

_ September 19, 2018, 5:12 AM _

**Rude**

_ Enj is acceptable. _

_ -Enj(olras) _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ September 19, 2018, 9:34 AM _

**Pot Calling the Kettle Black**

_ Eh, that’s boring. Angel? _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ September 21, 2018, 3:21 PM _

**Square Up**

_ Assuming my religion? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ September 21, 2018, 11:45 PM _

**Fight me, Tiny**

_ Well, most religions have some form of angels and it wasn’t used in the sense that you believed in them, just saying that you were an angelic/godly, pretty being, so you were the one assuming :P. _

_ Ange? _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ September 23, 2018, 7:32 AM _

_ … _

_ Bearable. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ September 23, 2018, 8:00 AM _

**I win**

_ Okay, you are the worst with replying at a human hour. And I’m glad that you finally agree with me for once. _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ September 25, 2018, 4:22 PM _

**Are There Even Any Real Winners**

_ I believe that’s the fault of the school system. Believe me, it’s not by choice. _

_ Did I agree? Debatable. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ September 27, 2018, 11:35 PM _

**Yes, Me**

_ Fair enough. You getting enough sleep? _

_ And you did. Or you gave up which I still count as a win _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ September 30, 2018, 12:01 AM _

**_Hmm._ **

_ Not really. I’d like to point out that you’re the one that always emails past 12am. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ September 30, 2018, 12:30 AM _

**Yep**

_ Yes, I email at night. You are the early bird and you reply at night. So if that’s the case when do you sleep? Also, do you drink coffee? _

_ -R _

**\--**

“Is anyone else a little bit bothered by how everyone immediately adores Sandy the minute she changes herself? I mean, high schoolers aside, that’s a little close-minded, don’t you think?” Marius pipes up during one of their GSA meetings, which has devolved into an extensive discussion of the plot of  _ Grease. _

“A little? I think it’s a lot more than ‘close-minded’; try sexist and misogynistic.”

“Enj, don’t take it out on Marius because you’re cranky at not being able to see that R is literally right in front of — mmph!” 

Combeferre claps his hand over Courf’s mouth and abruptly picks him up bridal-style. “Sorry, everyone, we forgot we have  _ —  _ responsibilities — stuff — things to do! We’ll see you for next GSA, bye!” Combeferre’s voice fades away as he sprints out the door, still carrying Courfeyrac, who is grinning wildly and has a raging blush creeping up his neck.

Enjolras blinks and heaves a sigh. “Back to our agenda —”

“They’re totally fucking.”

“Cosette!” 

**\--**

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ October 2, 2018, 5:45 AM _

**Re: Yep**

_ I sleep when it’s time to sleep. Combeferre claims my blood is 90% caffeine, 10% plasma. I’ve pointed out that he’s studying to be a doctor and those numbers don’t exactly match up, but he doesn’t usually answer. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ October 5, 2018, 2:15 PM _

**Dude**

_ What does that even mean? “I sleep when it’s time to sleep”. It’s always time to sleep. Look at me, I’ve fallen asleep in gym, math, science during a lab, and no less than four finals. _

_ AHA! You’ve got stunted growth because of the coffee!  _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ October 8, 2018, 6:16 PM _

**How Dare You**

_ I will say that I’ve fallen asleep in a pit rehearsal once already this year; I was waiting for the horns to come in and slumped off my chair. Drool isn’t a good oboe polish. _

_ Or you’re just obscenely tall? It goes both ways, you know. _

_ -Enjolras _

  
  


_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ October 8, 2018, 7:23 PM _

**Fight me**

_ Yeah, I can’t think that your instrument would like it. _

_ You are 5’2”. That’s tiny. I’m just 6’1”. There are at least a dozen football players who could crush me _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ October 10, 2018, 4:43 AM _

**He’s Finally Repeated a Subject Line!**

_ I don’t think I like drooling either. _

_ Football players are just as vulnerable to a knee in the gut (or lower) as anyone else.  _

_ How’s set designing going? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ October 11, 2018, 4:45 PM _

**Bite me, Blondie**

_ Fair enough _

_ I will keep that in mind _

_ Like a sloth stuck in syrup _

_ -R _

**\--**

“Honestly, what do they think we think they’re doing when they just suddenly leave in the middle of a conversation? And why does Combeferre always have to interrupt Courfeyrac before they go make out? Is it some sort of weird foreplay thing?”   
“Cosette!”

“What?” she says indignantly. “I’m only saying what we’ve all been wondering!”

“Speak for yourself,” Feuilly mumbles. “I don’t need to know anything about what Courf and ‘Ferre are up to.”

“You would if you had to watch them constantly staring at each other and being so painfully oblivious all the time,” Enjolras huffs. “It’s absolutely absurd that they can’t pick up on such obvious hints.”

The entire group groans in unison; Jehan looks like they’re about to explode. Cosette is trying painfully hard not to laugh.

“What’s foreplay?” Marius asks, looking utterly bewildered.

“I’m out,” Feuilly mutters, bolting up and slamming the door behind him.

\--

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ October 13, 2018, 2:21 PM _

**Re: “Bite me, Blondie”: That’s Suggestive**

_ Yeah, pit's been going pretty slow lately, too. Cosette’s trying to convince us all to do a group Grease Halloween costume; I’m fighting it as much as I can, but Courfeyrac’s about to wear me down with all his threats of glitterbombing my oboe. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ October 18, 2018, 3:55 PM _

**Got a kink ange? ;)**

_ Awww, a group costume would be cute! I can see you with the greased back hair and T-bird jacket. Or as a pink lady. _

_ Protect the oboe! _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ October 21, 2018, 4:03 AM _

**Be Serious**

_ I can’t believe you. _

_ Any plans for Halloween? _

_ -Ange _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ October 22 , 2018, 8:31 PM _

**I’m Wild (and you never said no)**

_ Surprised? _

_ I’m goin as Dionysus. Please please PLEASE say you’re going as an Angel (and I noticed the ange, glad you worked through the stages of grief) or Apollo _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ October 24, 2018, 7:56 AM _

**What, Exactly, Did You Notice?**

_ Halloween’s not really my vibe. We’ll see what Cosette concocts last-minute, she’s been giving me suspicious looks at dinner for the last week. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ October 25, 2018, 9:13 PM _

**You said ‘Ange’**

_ *offended R noise at your betrayal of the best holiday* _

_ Good luck with that. She sounds fun (and what’s with all the french names?) _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ October 28, 2018, 8:02 AM _

**I Must’ve Been Delusional**

_ If I did, indeed, go along with your nickname, that would’ve been when I was running on four hours of sleep for two days.  _

_ Nicknames are your territory, R; I don’t lay claim to that. _

_ I don’t really know? I would make a joke about your name, but for some odd reason, I still don’t know it. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ October 30, 2018, 9:00 AM _

**Uh huh. Sure**

_ C’mon ange, take your own advice _

_ Fair enough _

_ Decide on a costume? _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ October 31, 2018, 5:23 PM _

**Take My Advice About What?**

_ Well, I tried to go as Workers’ Rights Under Capitalism, but Courfeyrac said staying home in a silent protest of how workers’ rights are nonexistent was “no fun, and also boring”, so that flopped.  _

_ Cosette just messaged me and said she “has costume plans”, so I guess we’ll see what happens? _

_ Happy Halloween, R. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ October 31, 2018, 6:00 PM _

**Be Serious**

_ Yeah, I’d stay with Courfeyrac on that _

_ Can’t wait to find out what the costume plans turn out to be : ) _

_ Happy Halloween, ange _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ November 1, 2018, 1:24 AM _

**FOOLED**

_ I have been betrayed. _

_ So, Courfeyrac and Combeferre showed up at my house last night to get Cosette and me to go meet the rest of our friends. Cosette comes running down the stairs shrieking about a costume, and Courfeyrac pulls out a bag full of hair supplies. They proceed to force me into a chair while Combeferre’s smirking in the corner, and the next thing I know, I’m wearing a bedsheet and some leaves on my head. My hair’s been curled into the stupidest ringlets I’ve ever seen, and I am informed that I have to carry around a set of bow and arrows all night.  _

_ Any guesses on what the costume was? You’ll probably fall over laughing. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ November 1, 2018, 1:30 AM _

**APOLLO :D**

_ ANGE!! YOU DIDN’T!!! OMG THANK THEM FOR ME I NEED TO SEE A PICTURE THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY OH MY GOD _

_ (also, why are you up so early???) _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ November 1, 2018, 1:36 AM _

**Yes, Sadly**

_ Believe me, it wasn’t my choice. _

_ Absolutely no pictures. I shudder to think what would happen if any of my friends got your email address — complete havoc. _

_ Courfeyrac and one of our other friends insisted on going to every house for candy — we got plenty of judgmental looks from cranky parents. Cosette and I just got home. You? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ November 1, 2018, 1:40 AM _

**YAS**

_ Awwww please send at least one! I already know what you look like so it’s not like it’s risking your identity or anything _

_ Very cute, wish I could’ve been there _

_ I’m working on the designs for the car and other sets. _

_ Hey, I’ll make you a deal — you send me your picture and I’ll send you the set/costume ones. _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ November 1, 2018, 1:42 AM _

**Alternate Deal**

_ I’ll make you a counter-deal — you send me a picture of you in your costume, and I’ll send you one of mine (forcibly taken by Cosette). We’ll mentally shake on it? _

_ I wish you were there, too. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ November 1, 2018, 1:44 AM _

**Deal**

_ Sounds fair. [Attachment: One Image] Tada. All the grapevines were painted by yours truly. Bloodshot eyes were all natural though _

_ Aww, ange, I’m blushing _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ November 1, 2018, 1:50 AM _

**Going Back on a Deal**

_ See, R, technically I have no reason to torture myself by sending you a picture now. I suppose I have to — seems only right, though I warned you. [Attachment: One Image] _

_ Please note that it took me a full five minutes to recover from your costume (mostly recovering from you). Honestly, R, your hoodie doesn’t do you justice (though it is very cute). _

_ A blushing R sounds absolutely adorable. _

_ Get some sleep, please? _

_ -Enj _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ November 1, 2018, 1:50 AM _

**You had me with that line, ngl**

_ I knew you had too much guilt to go back on your word _

_ Thanks? I honestly don’t know how to react with this genuine flirting. I’ll check yours out now.  _

_ …… wow. I was expecting hot but damn, you exceeded my expectations _

_ You’re too cute _

_ And I’ll get sleep, but only if you do too. As godly as you look, you’re not immortal _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ November 1, 2018, 1:53 AM _

**R Being Flirted With: Shocked**

_ Oh, so you can dish it, but you can’t take it?  _

_ Might have to consider that, or I’ll have eyes almost as bloodshot as Dionysus’s. Couldn’t pull it off as well as you, though. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ November 1, 2018, 1:55 AM _

**Don’t Judge**

_ It’s my whole personality and I am not attractive, you are _

_ Oh come on, for a makeshift Apollo costume it’s very, very good. You look perfect _

_ -R  _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ November 1, 2018, 1:57 AM _

**Newsflash: R Is Attractive**

_ I think your personality is a lot more than you flirting, R. You’re one of the funniest people I’ve ever met, and one of the sweetest, too. _

_ Well, your costume involves much more preparation and talent.  _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ November 1, 2018, 2:03 AM _

**Bitch please**

_ Ange, the only attractive I am, is attracted to chaos.  _

_ I am not funny, I’m mean but people just think I’m kidding. _

_ And I am not sweet. Have you met me? I’m an asshole.  _

_ My costume was just a bedsheet. Your friends probably did twice the work, they had to plan to trick you and do a costume on the fly _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ November 1, 2018, 2:05 AM _

**Stop Deflecting and Accept the Flirting**

_ This may come as a shock, but yes, I have met you. My opinion is that you’re sweet, funny, and much more. Quite argumentative, too, as proved by you literally trying to convince me out of flirting with you. Go to sleep and accept that you’re cute. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ November 1, 2018, 2:08 AM _

**Nah**

_ In that case, I’m 90% sure you don’t really know me. I’m a cynical obnoxious dick. Hell, you said it yourself. _

_ Although I’m pretty sure that you’re just sleep deprived and that’s why you’re saying all this. _

_ However you are still making me blush. Knock it off _

_ Not as cute as you _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ November 1, 2018, 2:10 AM _

**You Said You Wanted a Nickname, So I’ll Find One (Eventually)**

_ Obstinate denial in the face of compliments — pretty in character, for you. No, I wouldn’t say anything like that; I think talking to you almost every day for months would have me knowing you pretty well. _

_ Sleep deprived or not, I’ll still stand to what I’m saying in the morning. Goodnight, R. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ November 1, 2018, 2:13 AM _

**‘R’ IS my nickname**

_ Don’t use big words on me. It’s not denial, it’s just stating facts. You see, here I can edit everything I say. If you knew me in person for more than three days you’d have punched me multiple times over. _

_ Doubt it _

_ Night, Apollo _

_ -R _


	5. November

“Why hasn’t he replied?” Grantaire groans, flopping onto his bed, startling his dog that was laying there. His kitten follows him in, mewling indignantly.  
“I know, I’m just being ridiculous,” he sighs, picking the cat up and putting her on the bed next to the dog, who is sniffing both of them. 

“I mean, he probably just got distracted or it just got swept up in the mass of emails he always gets. Or maybe his boyfriend with the glasses realized I’ve been fucking _flirting_ with him and he didn’t want a creep emailing him excessively!” he rambles. The pets simply stare at him. 

“He’s so cute and _that picture_ I mean, holy shit,” he sighs. “He’s so cute. I said that already but I need to say it twice to give him justice. And maybe he just doesn’t want to be friends with me or just realized I really am a dick,” he groans. 

“You know what, I don’t care. I don’t care! I mean, I should’ve expected it at some point. Why would he keep talking to me for this long?” he says, addressing his kitten who is now climbing on him.

Five minutes later, he’s drawing little stars in a sketchbook. 

“I do!” he exclaims suddenly. “I do care that Enjolras isn’t emailing me back! I mean, what the hell? He’s always awake, and I always replied to him, so what’s the deal?” 

Another few minutes pass, and he’s drawing random things before he realizes that he’s starting to draw Enjolras.  
“I’m done. I don’t care. I need a nap. He has a life!” he sighs, throwing the notebook on his desk (and missing horribly, sending papers across the room). He groans and lays back down, cuddling with his dog, the cat laying on his windowsill.

“I do care,” he mumbles as he turns the light off a few minutes later. “I do, and I think I like him.” The dog huffs and Grantaire smiles softly. “Yeah, yeah. I think I’m in love with him. Happy?”

**\--**

Enjolras is freaking out. 

He really didn’t mean to — of course, no one ever _means_ to break their phone — but it was a few days after Halloween, and he’d finally found a moment to breathe and to email R back and was trying to figure out what to say and then _poof,_ there goes his phone, out of his hand and into an open paint bucket right underneath the edge of the stage where he’d been helping Cosette with her fake hair-curler prop. He jumps off the stage, almost frantic, fishing his phone out of the bright red paint and trying not to cry. It’s completely ruined.

“Hey, Enj, it’s ok,” Cosette says gently, rubbing his back. “We’ll figure it out. It won’t even take long at all.”

“Long enough for R to think I hate him,” Enjolras says, voice shaky as he clutches his phone in his hand. He’s dripping paint on the stage, and he absentmindedly notes how stressed R would be about cleaning paint drops off a stage before he starts to sob.

“He’s not going to think you hate him, E,” Cosette reassures him.

“It’s already been _days,_ and he thinks I’m lying about saying he’s cute and he’s just — he’s so _sweet_ and he doesn’t even know it and he won’t take a damn compliment even when it’s the truth and I just —”

“Hey, hey, just breathe, Enj. It’s ok.” Cosette guides him over to the stage steps, sitting down and playing with his hair. He focuses on the feeling of her fingers, the gentle tug on his ponytail, and tries to make himself unclench his fingers from his paint-drenched phone. “You can go over to the computer lab in just a few minutes and email him, and it’s all going to be ok.”

“Oh my god, I’m so dumb,” Enjolras hiccups. “I literally could’ve just emailed him on my laptop — what was I thinking —”

“You were worried and stressed,” Cosette says firmly. “Don’t worry about it anymore, just go and email him right now, and we’ll figure out your phone later.”

“Ok. Ok, that sounds good.”

“I love you, Enj.”

“I love you too, ‘Sette.”

\--

He’s in the computer lab a little while later, logging into the archaically slow desktop and spinning in his chair as he waits, when he hears the lab door open and shut with a bang.

“Really, Grantaire, it’s not that big a deal,” a girl’s voice sighs, and Enjolras sees one of the girls from the set team tug someone wearing a thick, hooded winter coat to the computers across from him. “It’s just a few days after Halloween — he doesn’t hate you, he’s probably just busy.”

‘Grantaire’ speaks, his voice a low mumble, and Enjolras is suddenly very curious about who he is. He debates with himself for a moment before getting up, picking at leftover paint on his thumb as he walks over to the other computer banks — and then a _ding!_ sounds from his desktop, signifying that he’s finally logged in. Enjolras turns back to the computer and decides to come back in just a minute; he turns around just in time to see the duo’s shadows disappear out the door.

_Oh well._

**\--**

_r.enjolras@gmail.com_

_November 4, 2018, 4:32 PM_

**Oh My God**

_You would not_ believe _what’s been going on, R — I’m so so so so sorry about not answering sooner — everything just went insane all at once and then I dropped my phone in a bucket of paint and was a literal idiot and didn’t realize I could email you from a computer until Cosette mentioned it._

_R, regardless of editing ability, you’re still the same person in emails that you were/are in person. I still like you a lot, and I still stand by everything I said post-Halloween (and everything before). Give yourself some credit — you’re incredible._

_-Enjolras_

_aRtist09@gmail.com_

_November 4, 2018, 4:35 PM_

**Hey, he’s alive!!** **  
** _It’s totally fine. I mean I was worried you landed yourself in the hospital but no harm, no foul. Literally some kid did that here and they got fucking red paint EVERYWHERE. I mean, thank god that we paint the stage before every show but still! I needed to dig through the whole prop closet to see if we had another bucket (we didn’t and I ended up getting a bad allergic reaction)._

_Apollo, I think you’re exaggerating. If so, you’ll make a great politician. You’re very skilled at it_

_-R_

_r.enjolras@gmail.com_

_November 6, 2018, 5:42 PM_

**?**

_I’m still so sorry for disappearing._

_That really sucks, and is … also quite odd? I guess glitter, Grease, and red paint are exceptionally common at high schools this year. Are you ok?_

_I managed to get my phone replaced today — thankfully my trip to the prehistoric school computer lab was a one-time deal._

_???? Seriously, R, what do I have to do to convince you that I like you? Politics has been proven to have absolutely nothing to do with telling the truth — so how would I have anything to do with politics? You’re amazing, and that’s that. No more denials allowed._

_-Enjolras_

_aRtist09@gmail.com_

_November 8, 2018, 6:13 PM_

**I say that with love**

_Nah, don’t sweat it. Things happen._

_It’s all part of the high school experience. I just was deeply congested for a few days which wasn’t great but eh_

_Oh my god, my school has the same dinosaur computer lab. Yet another high school requirement._

_Enj, trust me. I know that people don’t like me. And I know that you barely met me. If you knew me for a few more days then you’d get it. It’s not denial, it’s stating fact._

_-R_

_r.enjolras@gmail.com_

_November 9, 2018, 7:29 AM_

**Likeability Is a Sham**

_Why, exactly, do you think people don’t like you? What is it about someone who adores sunsets and painting and voluntarily teaches underclassmen set design that could possibly make them so unlikeable? From what I know of you, I’m hard-pressed to find a reason not to like you, and I’m not trying to because I already know that I do like you. You can think poorly of yourself, but you can’t change how I think of you, R. And that’s in the highest regard._

_-Enjolras_

Grantaire sighs as he doodles aimlessly on the desk. He always attends the GSA meetings when he can but this particular one is boring and he’s in a bad mood. He didn’t email Enjolras back, it was easier to ignore him rather keep arguing. He’s drawing a little squirrel in the corner and can’t help but smile as he thinks of Enjolras before scowling again. 

“You done vandalizing the desk?” Bahorel teases, pulling his beanie over his eyes. Grantaire laughs as he fixes his hat. 

“Well, I am _now_ ,” he replies, putting his pencils back in his bag. “There is literally no point in paying attention.”

“Awww c’mon, what about the guy you’ve been talking to?” Bossuet teases. “I mean, if he’s so into student activism then can’t you at least put some effort into it?” Grantaire raises an eyebrow as he looks over at him.

“Wait, how do you know he’s into that?” he asks as Bossuet stammers an excuse.

“Well, I mean, didn’t you tell us about that at some point? You’re constantly talking about him and talking _to_ him and—” Joly cuts him off with a kiss.

“He’s got a point, R,” Musichetta says simply. “90% of what you say is about him, and you talked about his ‘annoying perseverance with the useless hobby of ‘student activism’’,” she quotes, mimicking Grantaire’s air quotes. Grantaire rolls his eyes as the late bell rings. 

“You are all idiots,” he tells them with a grin. “And I’ll see you all Thursday.”

**\--**

“ _Why_ is there a drawing of a squirrel scratched into this desk?” Enjolras asks, voice dripping with horror and a poorly disguised hint of laughter. He’s been seeing squirrels everywhere — he wishes he’d been seeing R, too, would much rather see R himself rather than just his favorite animal.

“Oh, that’s one of Grantaire’s,” Marius says earnestly. 

“I haven’t met him before,” Enjolras says. “I heard someone mention him in the computer lab the other day, though, but I didn’t get a chance to meet him.”

“I’m not sure whether to be grateful or infuriated by that,” Courf whispers to Combeferre.

“I’d go for grateful,” Combeferre mutters back. “I’d prefer not to have my eardrums shattered by arguing three times a week and constant flirting on the other four days.”

“He comes every Tuesday and Thursday,” Cosette says, a glint in her eye. “He’s in the show, too, working on sets.”

“He’s pretty cute,” Courfeyrac offers innocently, “if you like the whole slouchy-graffiti-artist vibe. He’s surprisingly intriguing in meetings when he decides to actually participate instead of sketching rainbows into desks; reminds me of someone we know —”

“You might know him, Enjolras!” Marius pipes up. “He goes by a pun-based initial too, just like that guy you email — what’s his name? Starts with a —”

Cosette tackles Marius to the floor as everyone screams a mix of obscenities and incoherent noises simultaneously. Enjolras claps his hands over his ears and stares around in shock. “What in the _world_ is wrong with you all?” he demands. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think there’s some sort of secret going on, with the — the screaming and the suspiciousness and the — Courf and ‘Ferre sneaking off randomly and disappearing for hours and Jehan looking like they’re in pain from not laughing every time we’re at GSA and rehearsals and just — what the _hell_?”

“It’s nothing, E,” Cosette says, placing a gentle hand on his arm. He’s breathing hard, and he can feel his face flushing; his neck is itching and his hair lays heavy on his neck and he just wants to know what everyone else knows.

“No, it’s not, Cosette, and I’m getting sick of everyone pretending stuff’s the same as usual.”

“Enj —”

“Meeting adjourned. I’ll see you all next week.” Enjolras gathers his stuff and walks out, nails digging into his palms, refusing to look back at his friends because he knows he’ll start crying if he does.

_r.enjolras@gmail.com_

_November 22, 2018, 11:31 PM_

**Help**

_Hey, R. I … it’s been a rough day. Everyone keeps acting weird around me — in GSA, in rehearsals, in classes — and it feels like I’m missing something. Not such a good feeling, thinking that there’s a secret everyone knows except you. Just … did I do something wrong? Are they upset with me? I don’t understand why they’d hide stuff._

_Hope you’re doing well._

_-Enj_

_aRtist09@gmail.com_

_November 23, 2018, 12:13 AM_

**It’s okay**

_Hey, it’s okay. I have no idea what’s going on there but I know you and I am 100000% sure that you didn’t do anything. I mean, you’re an angel. People are weird, that’s why I try to avoid them. And again, knowing you, you’re probably (definitely) overwhelmed with everything you’re doing. You care about everyone so much and it was bound to catch up with you at some point. Are you taking any time to recharge? Or even sleep the adequate amount? Please take care of yourself. They’re all idiots if they don’t appreciate you._

_Also would cute cat and dog pictures help?_

_-R_

_r.enjolras@gmail.com_

_November 23, 2018, 12:15 AM_

**What To Do?**

_You’re quite sweet, R; you might call me an angel, but I’m not. Maybe it is something I’ve done … I just don’t know what? I especially don’t know how to handle it._

_I would if I could, but there’s not been much time for anything lately, much less relaxing or extra sleep. I’ll catch up during winter break._

_Thank you, R. That means a lot._

_Cute pictures would definitely help._

_-Enjolras_

_aRtist09@gmail.com_

_November 23, 2018, 12:18 AM_

**Talk, as you love to do**

_Look, you ARE an angel. I don’t think you could ever do anything wrong. You can always talk to/email me when you need to. I’m also going to suggest talking to your friends. They obviously care about you a lot and they worry about you. I know it’s probably hard to talk to them but you need to mention it. Say that they’re making you uncomfortable or stressed out. (also do you have anxiety by chance?)_

_And please, please, please, take one day to recharge. You’re going to burn out if not._

_Here’s a picture of Mona, my six month old tabby kitten, standing on Rousseau’s head. Rousseau is my eight year old mastiff._

**_[Attachment: One Image]_ **

_Hope that helps, mon ange_

_-R_

_r.enjolras@gmail.com_

_November 23, 2018, 12:21 AM_

**R, Calling Me Out and Being Correct**

_You’re far too reassuring. Regardless — everyone can do things wrong, and they will. Perfection isn’t possible._

_Thank you. Same to you about emailing me whenever you need to. I think I’ll take your advice; no way to move forward if I don’t talk to them._

_Anxiety? Most likely. Why?_

_I’ll let you know when I get a day — though I’d use it to spend with you._

_Rosseau? Don’t tell me you’re a secret revolutionary and you’ve been feigning ignorance this whole time._

_They’re both illegally cute (just like you)._

_It really does help._

_-Enjolras_

_aRtist09@gmail.com_

_November 23, 2018, 12:30 AM_

**I’m always right**

_I hope I’m helping a bit. And you’re as close to perfect as any one human can get_

_Yep, most of the things that you’re worrying about hit me as someone with anxiety._

_I’m honored. I’m very good at providing distractions_

_Oh angel, he is NOT named after that guy. He’s named after Henri Rousseau. I’m sorry to disappoint._

_I am not cute but aren’t they?! And I have hundreds of them for any time you need._

_-R_

**\--**

The GSA room goes silent when Enjolras walks in. He straightens his back and walks like he does when he’s heading up to the debate podium. Courfeyrac is the first to step forward, hesitant. “Listen, Enj, we’re really sorry.”

“What’s been going on?” Enjolras asks, jaw clenched.

“I — we —” Courf trails off, looking to Combeferre for help.

“Enj, you know we’d never keep anything bad from you. We can’t say what it is —”

“But —”

“ _But_ , I promise you’ll recognize it when you find out. Can you trust us when we say you’ll understand later?”

Enjolras bites his lip, looks around. Everyone’s standing in an awkward circle; Marius is practically hiding behind Cosette, Feuilly’s forehead is creased, Courfeyrac looks like he’s about to cry, and Combeferre has a gentle hand on Courfeyrac’s shoulder.

“I — I suppose so,” Enjolras sighs. “But could you at least not make the secretiveness so terribly obvious?”

“Of course,” Courfeyrac laughs, crying a little as he rushes forward to hug Enjolras. Combeferre wraps both of them in his arms, and everyone else joins in a second later.

“Guys — guys, I’m a little squished,” Enjolras wheezes. They all start laughing, and Cosette ruffles his hair.

“Ok, Enj, what are we getting mad about today?” she teases. Enjolras starts chasing her around the room, and their GSA meeting turns into a tickle fight/war.

Enjolras wins.


	6. Winter Break

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ December 13, 2018, 11:18 AM _

**12 Days of Non-Specific Winter Holiday Doodle #1**

_ Okay, okay, okay, I know this is stupid but I’m doing little drawings for an advent-caption contest for the crew members. I figured I’d give my favorite debater a chance to make some comments. The first one is Grease themed, the greased lighting half painted rainbow by Danny. Have at it, ange. _

_ [ _ **_Attachment: One Image]_ **

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ December 13, 2018, 12:21 PM _

**12 Days of Non-Specific Winter Holiday Caption #1**

_ That sounds very fun; I’m honored by the opportunity. I’ll do my best to live up to your incredible art. _

_ Rainbows: R’s One True Love _

_ -Enj _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ December 14, 2018, 1:33 AM _

**12 Days of Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Doodle #2**

_ Very nice. Today’s is my dog as none other than Jean-Jaques Rousseau. _

_ You’re welcome ;) _

_ [ _ **_Attachment: One Image]_ **

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ December 14, 2018, 10:13 AM _

**Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Caption #2**

_ Rousseau: Class Traitor or Cat Baiter? _

_ I am truly thrilled.  _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ December 15, 2018, 2:45 PM _

**12 Days of Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Doodle #3**

_ Cat friend, actually. Today’s is *drumroll* Achilles and Patroclus being cute. _

_ They’re also gay, so comment accordingly _

_ [ _ **_Attachment: One Image]_ **

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ December 15, 2018, 4:31 PM _

**12 Days of Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Caption #3**

_ Hmm. I can definitely relate to that second sentence. _

_ Disaster Boyfriends: Or Are They Just Friends? (According to Straight Historians) _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ December 16, 2018, 11:32 PM _

**12 Days of Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Doodle #4**

_ Best comment of the day. Next, a roller coaster that is on fire. Have fun with this one, ange _

_ [ _ **_Attachment: One Image]_ **

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ December 16, 2018, 11:47 PM _

**12 Days of** **Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Caption #4**

_ AKA: every roller coaster ever, with regard to safety. _

_ Alternate: Hell on Fire _

_ How’s your break going? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ December 17, 2018, 12:53 PM _

**12 Days of Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Doodle #5**

_ Oh you’re still scared of roller coasters. Good to know. My break’s good, I’m not stressed for once, so yay. Have you taken your day off yet? _

_ Today’s is our lovely NYC being attacked by an adorable kitten _

_ [ _ **_Attachment: One Image]_ **

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ December 17, 2018, 1:47 PM _

**Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Caption #5**

_ Mona Gone Rogue! _

_ Hmm, haven’t had a day yet. I’ve been prepping for the Model UN conference in February with Combeferre. _

_ Adorable kitten is redundant, R. Every kitten is the most adorable thing on earth (topped only by you). _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ December 18, 2018, 3:17 PM _

**12 Days of Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Doodle #6**

_ Awww love that <3 and you flatter me _

_ Today it’s just my failed math test. The comments I have gotten today have been rough ngl _

_ [ _ **_Attachment: One Image]_ **

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ December 18, 2018, 6:22 PM _

**12 Days of Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Caption #6**

_ Are you ok? You can talk about anything with me, if you want to. _

_ R: Handwriting Almost As Artistic As His Paintings _

_ -Enj _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ December 19, 2018, 10:31 AM _

**12 Days of Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Doodle #7**

_ Nah, I’ve given up on school for the break, and somewhat after.  _

_ Some say artistic, some say chicken scratch _

_ Tada, it’s Artemis! You should know her _

_ [ _ **_Attachment: One Image]_ **

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ December 19, 2018, 2:05 PM _

**12 Days of** **Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Caption #7**

_ I suppose you’d be delighted to know that your Artemis looks oddly like my real sister. _

_ Greek Mythology: I Have to Google It _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ December 20, 2018, 4:54 PM _

**12 Days of Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Doodle #8**

_ Well, good to know.  _

_ -.- googling? really? _

_ Little pride thing. It’s a bunch of different flags in the words ‘we’re all human’ _

_ [ _ **_Attachment: One Image]_ **

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ December 20, 2018, 7:09 PM _

**12 Days of** **Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Caption #8**

_ Caption: Flags of Humanity _

_ I absolutely love them! My favorite’s the original rainbow flag; do you have a favorite? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ December 21, 2018, 11:47 AM _

**12 Days of Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Doodle #9**

_ Glad you like it :D _

_ It’s you! As what I imagine you do in MUN _

_ [ _ **_Attachment: One Image]_ **

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ December 21, 2018, 1:29 PM _

**12 Days of** **Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Caption #9**

_ Duet Career Plans: Political Cartoonist & Political Debater _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ December 22, 2018, 11:23 PM _

**12 Days of Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Doodle #10**

_ Very crafty, ange. _

_ I think this is my favorite one yet. _

_ Today’s is a lil squirrel that was inspired by my favorite junior ;) _

_ [ _ **_Attachment: One Image]_ **

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ December 22, 2018, 11:47 PM _

**12 Days of** **Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Caption #10**

_ It may just be my favorite one, too, (despite you calling me short) because it finally gave me a nickname for you: écureuil? _

_ I particularly like the red coat and the blonde wig; do you have first-hand knowledge of squirrel fashion? _

_ Squirrel Style: High (School) Fashion _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ December 23, 2018, 12:22 PM _

**12 Days of Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Doodle #11**

_ Hey, why am I écureuil? It’s of you! You’re the squirrel. Cute comment tho _

_ I must admit, your halloween costume inspired this one _

_ [ _ **_Attachment: One Image]_ **

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ December 23, 2018, 3:51 PM _

**12 Days of** **Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Caption #11**

_ Ah, so he dabbles in classical-style art, too? Though I’m not sure that comparing me to the god of poetry works well, considering that it took me that long to come up with a nickname. _

_ God Complex: Imposed By R _

_ You never said no, étoile. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ December 24, 2018, 11:30PM _

**12 Days of Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Doodle #12**

_ You’re very crafty with words and you look the part, ange. And I get bored! And may have made a little squirrel fashion line when I was a kid so don’t judge. _

_ I did this when we first met and everyone else wanted to see what my mystery boy looks like and I couldn’t not show you this. _

_ [ _ **_Attachment: One Image]_ **

_ Star? Wait….. Is that a pun? Or am I just sleep-deprived _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ December 24, 2018, 11:54 PM _

**12 Days of** **Non-Specific Winter Holiday Advent Caption #12**

_ Oh my god. That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. Definitely sticking with écureuil. _

_ Aha: Paintbrush Incident Explained _

Your  _ mystery boy, hmm? _

_ You have no idea how much I’m blushing right now, R.  _

_ I may have stumbled onto a pun by accident? But the French was a pun from the beginning, since you mocked the apparent French-ness of everyone at my school. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ December 25, 2018, 12:00 AM _

**Merry Christmas, mon écureuil et mon ange**

_ Nope, that is your nickname now, I am stealing it.  _

_ Ange, it is not my fault that you are just SCREAMING to be painted. _

_ Star. StaR. Yeah, I just need sleep _

_ I don’t know if you celebrate it but Merry Christmas.  _

_ Hey, look, mistletoe! _

**_[Attachment: One Image]_ **

**_-_ ** _ R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ December 25, 2018, 12:03 AM _

**Merry Christmas, mon étoile et ma chérie**

_ Mhmm. _

_ Oh, really? Well, it seems to me that you’re perfect to be kissed. _

_ Merry Christmas to you too, étoile. _

_ -Enj  _

\--

Enjolras hoists his oboe case up as he leaves rehearsal and practically drags himself down the hall to the GSA meeting room. They just got off of winter break and he already wants nothing more than to collapse on his bed and sleep, but he’s got hours of meetings and debate and homework ahead of him. 

He shoves the door open and finds that Courfeyrac is there early too, perched on a desk and fixing his makeup. Courfeyrac hops up as Enjolras walks in, coming over to hug him. “What happened at rehearsal today? You know you’re legally obligated to share any and all drama with me. It’s in our friendship contract,” Courf says solemnly. 

Enjolras groans as he throws himself on the ragged couch in the corner of the classroom. “Honestly, Courf, there’s no drama to have. It’s just pit rehearsal.”

“You didn’t meet anyone?” Courfeyrac presses, an odd tone to his voice.

“Courf, who am I going to meet at rehearsals that I don’t already know? You were literally there.”

“Yeah, I was there, but I didn’t see what you were doing!” Courf whines.

“Could that perhaps be due to the fact that you were too busy staring at Combeferre’s butt while he was explaining the harmonies to Cosette?”

“I was not!” Courf huffs, turning away to fiddle with his makeup case.

“Hey, Courf?”

Courfeyrac raises an eyebrow, scrunching up his face to inspect his cheeks.

“You don’t need any blush. You’re blushing enough already.”

Courf throws an eyeshadow brush at him.

**\--**

Grantaire slams the door to his mom’s apartment and pulls out his phone before Éponine cuts him off. 

“Hey, what’s up?” she asks as she falls into step next to him. He just huffs and scowls at her.

“I’m done! I tried with her and you know what she said? ‘It’s unnatural! I don’t want my son to be one of  _ those _ people!’ She said that. ‘One of those people’. Can you believe that she said that? My own mother.” He ends his fuming rant and drops his shoulders, looking down. “I can’t believe her.” 

Éponine sighs, squeezing his shoulder. “She’s an ass. Just try not to think about her,” she replies as she fishes a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket. “Want one?” she asks, and Grantaire nods as they get to the street and wait at the light. Just as the walk sign turns on, Grantaire hears someone behind him. 

“Rene, wait!” his mother calls, running to meet them. Grantaire stops and turns around, crossing his arms. 

“Honey, I’m sorry,” she sighs. “I should’ve talked to you and I shouldn’t have said any of that.” Grantaire looks at her. 

“Really?” he asks, cautiously hopeful. His mother sighs and nods, taking his hand.

“Of course. It’s fixable. There are camps I’ve heard about and —” 

“I can’t fucking believe you!” Grantaire snaps, pushing her away. “You’d — you’d rather torture me than accept that I can love girls and guys? Fuck you!” he snarls as he starts crossing the street. 

“Rene, please! Stop!” his mother calls again, and Grantaire turns around to flip her off. 

He doesn’t notice the car speeding down the road until it hits him.

**\--**

R hasn’t emailed since right before break ended, and Enjolras really has no idea why, this time. They seemed to be doing fine — talking, R deflecting compliments and sending mixed signals as usual, and then just — nothing. True, the past couple times it’s happened nothing’s really been wrong (or R’s continued onward as if nothing happened), but this time it feels like something’s really wrong.

Enjolras is sitting on his bed, gazing out his foggy window at the snowflakes drifting down. He’s glad they’re not at school — his town gets terribly icy roads, and student driving is risky at the best of times. He scoots closer to the window, lifts his finger to doodle in the condensation on the glass; he doesn’t realize he’s drawn an R until Cosette clears her throat, standing in his doorway. 

He turns around and tilts his head, questioning. Cosette comes over, perching on the edge of his bed. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Enjolras says, sitting up. “Just fine. Why?”

Cosette shakes her head at him. “E, I know your ‘something’s wrong with R’ look well by now. What’s going on?”

“Cosette, am I being clingy?”

“What?”

“I mean, is it ridiculous to get worried when he doesn’t answer me? We usually email every couple of days, and I haven’t heard from him since break ended, and just — I’m worried.”

“It’s totally reasonable, Enj. I’m going to echo Combeferre on this, but it won’t be the answer you want. There’s nothing you can do but wait.” She sees him visibly deflate at her words, and she pulls him into a hug. “I’ll be happy to wait with you, though. I feel like I know R  _ almost  _ as well as you do, and I can’t wait to know him more.”

**\--**

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 1, 2019, 12:01 AM _

**Happy New Year**

_ I know we haven’t talked in a couple days, but I wanted to wish you a Happy New Year! It’s not been long, but I’m so glad to have known you and keep getting to know you better. You really are the best, R. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 3, 2019, 7:35 PM _

**R: Being Cryptic**

_ Now, here’d be the part where I make fun of you for replying at odd times. Are you finally running out of banter? I never thought I’d see the day. _

_ How’s your set work and return to classes going? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 5, 2019, 4:45 AM _

**Hello?**

_ At the risk of sounding clingy, is everything ok? Worried about you. What will I do without your lovely nicknames and puns? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 7, 2019, 10:58 PM _

**Hope You’re Ok**

_ Just … I really hope you’re safe, R.  _

_I miss you,_ _mon étoile._

_ -ton ange _


	7. January, Part 1

Grantaire wakes up with intense pain in… everywhere. He tries to sit up, but someone pushes him back down. He looks up to see Jehan smiling at him. 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” they grin. “You were in and out for two weeks.” Grantaire tries to speak but just coughs roughly, wincing.

“Yeah, you broke a few ribs and it collapsed your lung which means you might not want to talk for a few days,” they explain. “And you broke your wrist, so no writing, drawing or  _ typing _ for a few more days, at least. Just nod along if you agree or shake your head if you don’t agree.” Grantaire nods and gives them a small smile.

“You’ll be able to go home in a few days and then you can get back to painting sets,” Jehan smiles, and Grantaire nods with a grin. “But you still need to take the PARCC,” they add with a wince, and Grantaire opens his mouth to protest but Jehan holds up a hand. 

“I know. Trust me, I know. It’s on Monday, so in five days you’ll be in the same room GSA is in.”

‘Great,’ Grantaire mouths, rolling his eyes.

“And before you ask, Éponine is going to email Enjolras for you tonight. She brought you to the hospital, so she’s been keeping your phone safe. He’ll know by tonight.”

‘Thanks,’ Grantaire mouths.

“Of course, R.”

\--

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ January 10, 2019, 8:32 PM _

**(Untitled)**

_ Hey, R got hit by a car. Thought you should know _

_ -Ép _

\--

Combeferre and Courfeyrac collide with each other, Courf panting and flushed from having run six streets over and Combeferre catching him by the arms to steady him. They rush up the driveway to Cosette, who’s standing in the doorway with her hair a mess and her nails bitten to the root. “Come on, he’s upstairs — I really don’t know what to do anymore, Marius and Feuilly were on the phone but they don’t know what to do and they didn’t want to overwhelm him —”

They turn the corner into Enjolras’s bedroom, Courfeyrac clutching Combeferre’s hand so tight that he’s leaving white finger marks. 

Enjolras is on the floor, slumped against his bed with the covers thrown in a pile around him. His breath is wheezing in and out of his chest, and he’s making a terrible rasping sound. Courfeyrac rushes over and drops to the ground, hands fluttering around Enjolras as Courfeyrac looks up at Combeferre desperately. Cosette’s back by the doorway, stifling tears and about to collapse.

“Ok, alright,” Combeferre says, voice shaking. “First things first — Cosette, you come over here,” he murmurs, making sure she sits down without falling. “Courf, I’m going to need you to stay calm for Enj, ok? He’s going to be fine, we’re going to help, but I need you with me.” Courfeyrac nods.

“Ok, ok,” Combeferre mumbles to himself. Enjolras’s breathing is speeding up; he’s hyperventilating, almost choking. “Enj? Hey, E, can you hear me?” Combeferre calls, voice soft.

Enjolras gives a barely-there nod.

“Can I touch you, E?” Courfeyrac asks. Enjolras nods again, and Courfeyrac takes one of his hands and covers it with his own. “We’re right here, Enj.”

“Enjolras, Courf is going to hold your hand. While he holds your hand, can you focus on the feeling of his fingers and on my voice? Match your breathing to when Courf rubs your hand, ok?”

Enjolras finally takes a shuddering breath, fingers curling and quivering. “Combeferre?” he croaks, voice raw like he’s been screaming.

“Yeah, I’m right here.”

“Who else?”

“Courf is right next to you, and Cosette’s sitting right over here. Can you see her?”

“Mhm,” Enjolras hums, relaxing a little as his breathing starts to regulate. “Is R here?”

Combeferre chuckles weakly, and Courfeyrac reaches out to grab his hand. “Not right now, E, but maybe soon.”

Enjolras nods sleepily, tipping over into Courfeyrac’s lap. His eyes drift closed, and Combeferre can tell when he finally falls asleep.

“What the hell is going on, Cosette?” Courfeyrac whispers, completely in shock. Cosette gets up from the desk chair and stumbles over, tugging a blanket over Enjolras from the pile as she sinks down.

“I really don’t know,” she replies. “E just read an email on his phone and he just — it was the worst I’ve ever seen him,” she says, shuddering. “Nothing I did worked and then he — stopped breathing, and I really didn’t know how to help and that’s when I called you two.”

“I’ll ask Jehan,” Courfeyrac says, typing a text to them with shaking hands.

“This just — it isn’t working,” Cosette says, starting to cry. “I know it’s not our place to tell them, but they could help each other  _ so much  _ if they only just  _ knew _ ,” she sobs.

“We’ll figure it out in the morning, Cosette,” Combeferre says. He finds himself subconsciously scooting closer to Courfeyrac — even though he’s got a lapful of Enjolras, Courfeyrac gently tugs Combeferre over to rest his head on Courf’s shoulder.

Combeferre feels Courf gasp, his phone screen lighting up. “Jehan says R got hit by a car,” Courfeyrac says quietly.

“Oh.”

“That would explain what’s going on,” Cosette says, looking pale and slightly nauseated. “Is he ok?”

“Yeah, he’s in the hospital.” Courfeyrac responds.

“Well, Enj is ok now. We’ll discuss what to do going forward tomorrow — let’s take Enj’s cue and get some sleep.”

“A floor sleepover,” Cosette says, giving a watery laugh.

They end up in a pile, Cosette curled as close to Enjolras as she can get and Courfeyrac leaning over into Combeferre’s chest. Combeferre strokes Courf’s hair as he and Cosette fall asleep.

He gives a little chuckle in the near-silent room, watching Courf’s fingers fidget in his sleep.  _ And he calls Enjolras and Grantaire oblivious _ , Combeferre thinks, brushing hair off of Courfeyrac’s forehead. 

_ If only he knew _ .


	8. January, Part 2; February, Part 1

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ January 12, 2019, 4:32 AM _

**I AM SO SORRY**

_ I am so sorry, ange! I didn’t mean to make you panic, my wrist was broken and I wanted to type, I swear. Your emails made today the best of the new year.  _

_ I hope you're okay, I feel bad for leaving you outta nowhere. _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 12, 2019, 8:02 AM _

**Hello!**

_ Hi R, this is Cosette, Enjolras’s sister. Enj is asleep right now — he had a major panic attack yesterday and he’s sleeping it off. I just wanted to connect with you so you knew he was okay.  _

_ It’s absolutely lovely to talk to you, R, and I think I can speak for Enj when I say that getting hit by a car really isn’t your fault. Please don’t worry about it. I hope you’re feeling better! _

_ -Cosette _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ January 12, 2019, 8:32 AM _

**Hey?**

_ Oh my god is he okay??? Shit, I didn’t mean for that to happen. It’s nice to talk to you too but I’m sorry it’s in such bad circumstances. Did he get hurt at all? Has he taken a break from school recently, or ever? I’m worried about him most of the time, it’s a talent, but please try and make him sleep or something.  _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 12, 2019, 8:37 AM _

**Don’t Worry**

_ He was … pretty messed up, but he seems better now. Honestly, I haven’t seen him sleep this long in ages. He’s not too good at taking breaks, as you probably know. You also probably know that you can’t really  _ make  _ him do anything, but his body seems to have taken a hit and crashed. Combeferre and Courfeyrac came over to help me calm him down. He asked for you as soon as he was coherent.  _

_ So far, everything he says about you seems true, R. You are quite sweet to be worrying about my brother when you’re literally confined to a hospital bed.  _

_ -Cosette _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 12, 2019, 8:40 AM _

**Worrying is the only thing I am good at**

_ He’s going to be the death of me, he’s taking years off my life I swear to god. He doesn’t get the concept that he needs to take care of himself and he’s so important to so many people.  _

_ That’s good and I’m oddly honored? I miss him even though I only met him for a few days.  _

_ I’m not sweet as much bored and worried. I still can’t draw and it’s insane, and I haven’t had my regular dose of Enjolras _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 12, 2019, 8:45 AM _

**Worry About Yourself, Please?**

_ This is very true. I will note, though, that you don’t seem to be taking care of yourself, either. Please take some time to heal, for Enjolras? _

_ Oh, he misses you too, believe me. _

_ Regardless, the worrying is quite adorable. You’ll get him soon — his internal alarm clock starts freaking out whenever he sleeps past 10. _

_ If I don’t get a chance to talk to you again, I wish you the best, R. You and my brother are very cute together. _

_ -Cosette _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 12, 2019 9:22 AM _

**There’s no fun in that**

_ I haven’t checked myself out of the hospital yet, so that’s better than the last time I was stuck in the emergency room _

_ I’m fine. Well, ish. _

_ I’m relieved beyond belief that he’s resting but I can’t wait to talk to him again. I miss mon écureuil  _

_ Ya know, you and your brother share the same ability to find my horrible personality “adorable” _

_ Thanks. Wait, you mentioned Combeferre earlier. Isn’t that his boyfriend (the one with the glasses)? _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 12, 2019, 9:24 AM _

**Oh My God**

_ Ok so Enj just woke up and I’ve stolen his phone while he’s bleary-eyed-sleepy because I absolutely cannot let this go unaddressed _

_ No, R, ‘Ferre isn’t Enj’s boyfriend. Enj isn’t the type to blatantly flirt with someone while in a relationship — and anyway, he’s practically been in love with you since the day he met you _

_ Enj will have my head later for saying that but it was so worth it _

_ God you two are so insufferably well-suited for each other _

_ -Cosette _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 12, 2019 9:26 AM _

**I’m Sorry, what?**

_ Okay, let me talk to the sleepy squirrel please _

_ And that little shit is single?! I mean how the hell has no one asked him out yet I mean he is a literal god and ridiculously attractive and he’s not dating anyone?????? WHAT _

_ I’m sorry my brain is shutting down because he’s NOT DATING ANYONE  _

_ Cowards _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 12, 2019, 9:27 AM _

**Hiding In the Kitchen**

_ Oh my  _ GOD  _ he’s waiting for  _ YOU  _ to ask him out _

_ Gotta go throw up from the cuteness, see you at the wedding _

_ Enjolras is awake and chasing me for his phone now so please defend me to him later _

_ -’Sette _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 12, 2019 9:29 AM _

**Setttteeeeeee**

_ C’mon, plllleeeaaasssee? I was out of it for two weeks and I have a right to talk to that dork _

_ He deserves an actual relationship, not one that requires WiFi. I care about him too much to do that to him. And c’mon, there’s gotta be 100 guys in your school who are better people and love him. _

_ THANK YOU, give the dork the phone! _ _  
_ _ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 12, 2019, 9:35 AM _

**Dumping Me For My Sister?**

_ Oh my God R are you ok? I was so so so worried shit _

_ How are you doing? Are you in pain? What happened? _

_ I’m now realizing how much of a power duo you and Cosette would be. Absolutely terrifying. _

_ I’m so so sorry this happened, mon étoile. _

_ -Enj _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 12, 2019 9:40 AM _

**Never, mon ange**

_ I’m fine, are you okay?? I’m so sorry that I put you through the chaos that your sister explained. I’m so sorry. _

_ I’m alive. I was fighting with my mom and just stopped. In the middle of the road. When there was a green light. Not my brightest moment. I’m ok now though. I was unconscious for most of the painful-painful parts. I can’t draw which kills me but I can talk to you which helps everything. You’re the literal sun, Apollo. I’m sorry you were so worried. _

_ It’s not your fault, nothing is. _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 12, 2019, 9:43 AM _

**No Guilt Allowed**

_ Seriously, R, please don’t feel guilty. Cosette was right when she said that none of this is your fault — you didn’t control getting hit by a car. None of it is you at all. I’m just so glad you’re ok. _

_ Do you want to talk about what happened with your mom? Do you need somewhere to stay? _

_ Can’t say I’m glad you were unconscious, but I am glad you avoided most of the pain. When do they say you can draw again? _

_ Of course I’d worry, R. I didn’t mean a sorry in the ‘it’s my fault’ way, just the ‘I’m so sorry this even happened to you’ way. _

_ Can I help, chérie? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 12, 2019, 9:47 AM _

**Follow your own rule**

_ Well…. I wasn’t paying attention and ran into the road while smoking so it’s like 80% my fault _

_ I’m alright, I live mostly with my dad anyway. I was only at her place for break. _

_ They said I can’t draw for like three weeks. I hate this. I just want to get back to my set (and make sure nothing is burned down in my absence) _

_ Yay, at least one of us isn’t feeling horribly guilty _

_ I’m just better now that I’m talking to you :) _

_ How’s life been anyway?????  _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 12, 2019, 10:30 AM _

**Perhaps**

_ Still, not good. No point in guilt. _

_ I’m glad you’re safe. You can talk about the fight and what happened whenever you want, or not at all.  _

_ I know it’s frustrating — you just have to let yourself heal right now, and you’ll be doing crazy set things again in no time. _

_ I’m always better when I’m talking to you. _

_ It’s been ok; classes have started again and everything’s busy. The show’s really taking off since we open soon (February 14th, save me from the cliche). _

_ How are you feeling? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ January 12, 2019, 6:19 PM _

**Uh huh**

_ Agree to disagree _

_ I’d rather just leave it. No point beating a dead horse  _

_ Our show opens then too — I’ve got about a month left, it’s set runner time and it’s stressful as fuck _

_ I’m honored that I make you happy. _

_ How are you after… you found out about the mess? ‘Sette said you’re fine but I’m worried _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 12, 2019, 9:54 PM _

**Try Not To Stress**

_ Wanting to not discuss is completely understandable. I’ll be here if you change your mind. _

_ I’m doing ok. I just … I really want to see you. I know it wouldn’t work, but I’m still so worried and I want to help more than I am. _

_ Nickname terms with Cosette, hmm? Very cute. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 14, 2019, 9:47 AM _

**When pigs fly, mon écureuil**

_ Thanks, angel _

_ I wanna see you too. Hey, would you want to meet for spring break? I mean, if you’re not drowning in school work _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 14, 2019, 11:26 AM _

**!!!!!**

_ Of course, darling. _

_ That would be so amazing — maybe we can coordinate when it gets closer? Ours is scheduled after the show, around the beginning of March or so. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 14, 2019, 11:47 AM _

**Of course**

_ That’s right when ours is! It’s still going to be pretty cold but I was known for doing the polar bear swim every year _

_ I am keeping you away from my paintbrushes this time though _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 15, 2019, 6:06 AM _

**I Can’t Wait**

_ Listen, étoile, we’ve gone over this. The paintbrushes were not my fault — you’re the one who tossed yourself over the pier to grab them. _

_ How are you feeling? Are you going back to school and rehearsals soon? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 15, 2019, 8:27 AM _

**I assume you’ll still be as short as when I met you**

_ Yes, they were. We’ve been over this and I won _

_ I still feel like I was hit by a truck, but I had to come back or risk failing. School system’s fucked, nothing new. And luckily I am back home to my lovely set. How about you? How’s MUN? _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 15, 2019, 5:31 PM _

**And I Assume You’ll Still Be As Mysterious As When I Met You**

_ How interesting: R feels like he was hit by a truck … and he actually was? Hmm.  _

_ I’m still so sorry you feel bad; can you take anything for the pain? Definitely agreed on the school part. _

_ MUN’s going ok; I keep zoning out in class, which isn’t good at this point with the conference coming up. We’ve got tech week at the same time as conference, which means Combeferre and I will have to miss the last two days of tech — which means even more frenetic practicing in the meantime. I’m ok — tired, but nothing new. _

_ -Enjolras  _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 16, 2019, 2:47 AM _

**Maybe, maybe not**

_ Shut up, you know what I mean. I’m taking Advil every hour but other than that, nothing. My dad’s got crap insurance _

_ You? Zoning out? My god, you  _ must  _ be tired. And missing tech week?! Do you have a death wish? You don’t just miss tech!! Your director would kill you. Mine would. Chill out though. I’m sure you’ll manage. Get some sleep _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 18, 2019, 4:17 AM _

**You’re Only Proving My Point**

_ “Crap insurance” — isn’t that the story of the world (or just average American citizens) _

_ Tired’s only part of it, to be honest — mostly just worried. _

_ Oh, our director definitely will — it’s a habit of hers, killing students. She’s not too happy about it, but she can’t do much considering that Combeferre and I have been ahead on our memorization through the entire rehearsal schedule.  _

_ Hmm … sleep. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 18, 2019, 5:34 AM _

**Fine. Do you want another letter in my name? It’ll be like hangman**

_ Yep. Story of my life, ange. I once got a job at a place in town and got paid three bucks a day. Not worth it to pull out hedges for the most of my summer _

_ You’ll do great, I know it.  _

_ Please promise me you’ll get some sleep _

_ Hey, truth or dare? _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 18, 2019, 5:38 AM _

**Why Are You Up So Early? Also Yes, Please**

_ You’re not allowed to be up any earlier than 8, chérie, or you’ll steal my branding. _

_ That’s almost got to be illegal — either on literal legal grounds or just moral, my god. _

_ Thank you, R. _

_ I’ll try? Kinda hard when I’m not really in control of my own schedule. _

_ Truth? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 19, 2019, 9:52 AM _

**Bitch, you’re up just as early**

_ And you can’t be up earlier than 8, mon ange, or you’ll stunt your growth even more _

_ Eh, I quit anyway. I’m now working at the DQ in town _

_ Any time angel _

_ SLEEP _

_ Chicken. I’m still going to give you a dare- I dare you to sleep more _

_ My name also has a…. *drum roll for effect* second R! _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 20, 2019, 6:03 AM _

**?? Your Point?**

_ Fight me. _

_ Doesn’t sound much better, but hopefully it’s at least minimum wage. _

_ Hmm … I’ll take it under consideration. _

_ Damnit, Rr. Not helpful, just reinforces your pun (which I still don’t know  _ why  _ it’s a pun). _

_ Truth or dare? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 20, 2019, 7:20 AM _

**You can’t lecture me if you’re doing the same**

_ Anytime, anywhere. Pick the place, pipsqueak. _

_ It’s chill. Air conditioning in the summer and food, can’t complain _

_ Good _

_ I’ll add ‘e’. The most common letter in the alphabet _

_ It’s only fair. Dare because I’m not a chicken. _

_ -Rr _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 21, 2019, 6:03 AM _

**Rre: The Fuck?**

_ Preferably a place where I get to see you. _

_ Soooo helpful. _

_ Dare you to … _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 21, 2019, 7:56 AM _

**There are other letters.**

_ Dwah, that’s cute. Or you want to kick my ass.  _

_ I know. How about every night you get more than 9 hours of sleep, I’ll give you a letter. _

_ Leaving me in suspense, mon écureuil? _

_ -Rre _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 22, 2019, 8:34 PM _

**Really? Yes, Another 24**

_ I’d go for cute if you’re thinking about intentions. _

_ It’s not fair to set me up for failure from the start. I haven’t gotten 9 hours of sleep since before high school. _

_ I dare you to give me another letter — maybe another vowel? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 23, 2019, 1:24 AM _

**Smartass**

_ Thought so _

_ Or you could just sleep from 10pm-7am? Just a thought, ange _

_ Oh Apollo, what a waste of a dare. There’s yet another E _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 24, 2019, 1:47 PM _

**Smartass? Oh, You’re Talking To Yourself**

_ Whoever can go to bed at 10pm has the best (and most unrealistic) life. _

_ Hang on, that’s not how hangman works. You give one letter and it fills in all the places where that letter is — also, are we doing first and/or last names? _

_ I get another dare since you cheated, étoile. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 24, 2019, 4:14 PM _

**Haha, Hilarious**

_ Dude, what are you doing at 10 pm? _

_ It’s my game, I play however I want.  _

_ Fair enough. Have at it, mon ange _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 26, 2019, 11:24 PM _

**No, You**

_ … School? _

_ Sounds slightly illegal to me, but I’ll let you get away with it. _

_ I dare you to tell me if you’re naturally this flirty, or just with me. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 27, 2019, 12:02 AM _

**You’re sleep-deprived**

_ Just don’t do the homework like the rest of us _

_ Ah yes, it’s very illegal to cheat in hangman. You’re very merciful _

_ Dude, that’s just a truth but I’ll let it slide. It’s an annoying mix of both ;) _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ January 29, 2019, 3:17 PM _

**Yes, And?**

_ Ah, but consider … anxiety and overachiever, mixed together. _

_ Some call it merciful, some call it biased. _

_ If you say so, étoile. You’re quite good at avoiding the unspoken question, though. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ January 31, 2019, 5:34 AM _

**Your subjects lost sense like five emails ago**

_ True, true. Counterpoint — depression and an overwhelming need to sleep. _

_ Mhmm, I call it love _

_ How can I avoid them if they’re unspoken? _

_ -Rre _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ February 1, 2019, 6:23 AM _

**Yours Never Had Any**

_ Seems like we’d balance each other out well. _

_ As would I. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ February 2, 2019, 3:24 AM _

**I beg to differ**

_ Together, we’re a functioning human.  _

_ Aww, do you have a crush on me angel? _

_ Now you are the one not answering questions _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ February 4, 2019, 4:11 PM _

**Differ Away**

_ Not quite together, yet, but hopefully someday. _

_ Most definitely, ma chérie. _

_ What questions? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ February 5, 2019, 11:34 PM _

**Hon. Get. Some. Sleep.**

_ “Someday my prince will come” _

_ Aww _

_ How do I answer an unasked question _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ February 6, 2019, 1:45 AM _

**God, I Wish**

_ Now you’re the one who sounds sleep-deprived-insane. Quoting Disney? I wouldn’t have thought you the type. _

_ Truth or dare? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ February 6, 2019, 5:21 AM _

**Babe. SLEEEEEEEEEEEP**

_ I love Disney. Not the capitalism, but the cute stories. I’m here for a gay disney prince _

_ Again? Truth, I’m tired _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ February 6, 2019, 6:30 AM _

**Babe? You’re Terrible At Mixed Signals**

_ Definitely agreed on that, but only if voiced by Aaron Tveit. _

_ Truth: why’d you ask if I had a crush on you? Be serious for my sake, R. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ February 6, 2019, 7:00 AM _

**“Mixed Signals”? Bitch, I’ve been flirting from day one**

_ YES PLEASE THANK YOU and the other one should be Thomas Sanders because that song is perfect (Also, Aaron Tveit was in a version of Grease. Go watch it) _

_ I plead the fifth _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ February 6, 2019, 6:30 AM _

**But Is It Me Or Just How You Talk: A Saga**

_ The fifth amendment? Self-incrimination in what way? You already made me answer the same question, écureuil. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ February 7, 2019, 10:11 AM _

**BREAKING NEWS: It’s you**

_ ….. You overestimate my knowledge of anything. Let’s go back to the gay disney prince topic _

_ Your turn; truth or dare? _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ February 7, 2019, 8:02 PM _

**…**

_ Evasion. _

_ Dare. _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ February 8, 2019, 6:31 AM _

**Did I over step?**

_ Whatever _

_ I dare you to take a goddamn nap _

_ Also…. You know what time it is? _ _  
_ _ -R _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

February 8, 2019, 6:34 AM

**IT’S HELL WEEK**

_ WELCOME TO HELL WEEK APOLLO _

_ THIS IS WHERE SLEEP SCHEDULES AND SANITY GO TO DIE _

_ How are you? _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ February 8, 2019, 9:58 PM _

**No, You Never Could Overstep**

_ You sound far too enthusiastic about hell week. I went through one day of tech today and ended up taking a non-voluntary nap (also known as passing out). So, considering that, I’m better rested than I have been in weeks. _

_ How are you? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ \-- _

Grantaire relaxes as they finish their first day of tech, and he looks through the wings at the crew sleeping in various locations. He sighs softly as he stretches out on the prop bed. After staring at the curtain for a good ten minutes, he gives into his temptation and checks his phone. He grins as he sees Enjolras’ reply. 

“Dork,” Jehan says as they sit on the end of the bed. “Emailing Enjolras again?”

Grantaire simply throws one of the pillows at them.

“Shut up and let an artist sleep,” he grumbles.

“Not until you answer him,” they grin. Grantaire rolls his eyes with a smile

“Fine,” he smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jehan.”

\--

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ February 8, 2019, 11:45 PM _

**Good to Know ;)**

_ It’s when my crew can show off. They’re doing so well, the pit needed to cut scene change music. I’m so proud _

_ Well, I’ll take it. You slept a bit so yay _

_ I’m amazing. We are killing it and managed two full run-throughs. I’m currently napping on the prop bed and might just stay till tomorrow. I just need to lock up. _

_ -R _

_ r.enjolras@gmail.com _

_ February 9, 2019, 8:46 AM _

**Really?**

_ That sounds incredible, R, and it’s probably all due to you. However, I will say that set and design crews seem to be universally talented — the same happened at my school with cutting scene changes, so Combeferre’s scrambling to figure that out before we leave in a few days. _

_ Napping on props seems to be a stage manager privilege — I can’t even manage to nap on my own oboe without the director yelling at me before I even fall asleep. _

_ How’s set design going? _

_ -Enjolras _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ February 9, 2019, 2:21 PM _

**What?**

_ They’re just being amazing. I can’t take credit _

_ Oh it was after rehearsal, I swear _

_ It’s fucking amazing. Everything is perfect. _

_ -R _

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ February 9, 2019, 6:19 PM _

**HELP**

_ I’M FUCKED _

_ THE CAR BURNED DOWN _

_ JUST FLOOSH _

_ HOLY SHIT I SPENT HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS ON THAT. I DETAILED EVERY TIRE, EVERY BUTTON, EVERY DOOR, EVERYTHING I EVEN MADE A WAY IT DOES THE TRANSFORMATION SO I NEEDED TO DO ALL THE RUST AND SHIT _

_ And it’s gone. I mean, just gone. One of the spots fell and the bulb sparked and that was it _

_ I need to redo everything and everyone’s blaming me because I didn’t lock up the fucking lighting box _

_ I just…. I really need a friend right now so please, please reply when you can _

_ -R _


	9. February, Part 2

_r.enjolras@gmail.com_

_February 9, 2019, 7:06 PM_

**I’m So Sorry**

_I’m so sorry, chérie. Is there any way I can help?_

_It’s not your fault, R; if anyone’s blaming you, they’re full of bullshit. You can’t be expected to do everything, and you did nothing wrong._

_Is there anything at all I can do to help?_

_-Enjolras_

_aRtist09@gmail.com_

_February 9, 2019, 7:41 PM_

**It’s just… gone**

_I just needed to talk to you. Someone who currently doesn’t hate me._

_Ange, it is. It’s my fault that I didn’t lock it. I had one fucking job and everything was ruined because of me._

_Unless you have a car in your backpack, then just being here is the best thing anyone can do_

_-R_

_r.enjolras@gmail.com_

_February 9, 2019, 8:11 PM_

**Please Stop Beating Yourself Up**

_We can talk about anything you want, étoile._

_I could never hate you._

_Regardless, there’s literally no point in them blaming you — it doesn’t fix the car, and it doesn’t fix the team. Nothing will get done if everyone’s just blaming each other._

_Something happened to our car prop, too, so I’ll keep you updated on what they do to fix it. I haven’t been to rehearsal for tech since ‘Ferre and I are prepping for the Model UN conference, but I’ll ask Courferyac to let me know._

_-Enjolras_

_aRtist09@gmail.com_

_February 11, 2019, 1:19 PM_

**Why**

_Why? Why should I stop “beating myself up”? I’ve been working on fixing it for days and it’s barely put together. It’s just going to be a sore thumb and I can’t just ditch it because it’s such an important part of the show. I mean all my grades are basically gone and I have nothing to show for everything. And no one else can help. They’ve got their own shit and the show is so close, I just made everyone stress out more. All I do is drag people down. Hell, I’m doing it to you! You have a conference to work on and you don’t need my shit to deal with._

_-R_

_r.enjolras@gmail.com_

_February 11, 2019, 3:39 PM_

**You’re Not Dragging Anyone Down**

_Because it doesn’t get anything done, R. All you’re doing is making yourself feel worse. Can you at least ask for some help? People pull together to finish a show — you have a whole crew behind you. You still have the plans for the original design, right? You can work off of a simplified version of those._

_Chérie, you don’t drag people down; you build them up. You do it while tearing yourself down, which isn’t good, but you focus so much on helping everyone and taking all the responsibility on yourself that you forget that you can’t do everything yourself. You’re never a burden or a bother, and you won’t be._

_-Enjolras_

_aRtist09@gmail.com_

_February 12, 2019, 2:14 PM_

**I’m broken**

_Enjolras, shut up. I’m a mess. I’m broke in more ways than one and there’s no point in pretending I’m not. You’re just this golden ray of light that makes everyone’s day better._

_You’re smart, you know how to have healthy relationships and care and work. I don’t. I have no work ethic or people skills or anything that makes me a decent person. No one cares if I’m around and if they do, the only reason is because they can get something from me. Optimistically, I’d live til my thirties but let’s be realistic, I’ve smoked since I was in eighth grade and I got hit by a fucking truck._

_I mean, all you know about me is from me flirting for two days and then just emails, still flirting even though I know that it’s hilariously useless._

_And if you really do think of me like that, you’re hopelessly naive._

_-R_

_r.enjolras@gmail.com_

_February 12, 2019, 2:20 PM_

**No, you’re not, mon étoile**

_Maybe you’re a mess; I know I am. That doesn’t make me terrible, it just makes me a regular person. You can’t idealize me, R; I can’t live up to what you think I am. I have flaws, like everyone else — I get angry, I don’t take time for myself, I push myself too hard. You’ll only be able to see who I am if you recognize that I’m not perfect, and no one is. There’s no such thing as good or bad, R — there’s just trying to be kind, and trying to be happy._

_You have friends, R; you’ve talked about them. You have people who look up to you — just comparing how big the stage crew is at our school, a_ lot _of people who trust you to teach them. You do so many things — art, school, your show, stage managing (which is you being a role model), and though I can’t speak directly for how it turns out, just how much you_ care _already tells me that you do well._

_I do know who you are._

_I know that you like to paint. I know that you’re a good swimmer, you love sunsets, you support your aunt finally being able to get married, you pay attention to your friend’s makeup designs for the school show, you like to draw squirrels, you’re obsessed with Greek mythology, and you come up with the dorkiest (and cutest) nicknames. You make puns, you make art, you make me blush, you make me laugh. You’re what I look forward to every day._

_Why would it be useless? I’ve been flirting back, haven’t I?_

_If caring for you is being naive, R, then I’m as naive as they come._

_-Enjolras_

Enjolras hits send on the email, only hesitating for a second. He stares at his empty inbox, thumb absentmindedly rubbing across his screen.

“Enjolras!”

He turns around, oddly half-expecting it to be R, but it’s only Combeferre, pulling up in the school parking lot. “Are you ready for the conference?” Combeferre asks, sitting next to him on the curb as they wait for the bus to pick them up.

“I guess? We’ve been preparing for months, there’s really no way I couldn’t be,” Enjolras responds, setting his phone down next to him on the concrete. Combeferre sees it, and his face becomes pensive.

“How’s R doing?” he ventures, watching Enjolras’s expression closely.

“He’s — ok.”

“Anything wrong?”

“He’s just convinced that there’s no way I could possibly like him.”

“I’m assuming you told him otherwise?”

“I did,” Enjolras says, half-laughing. “I don’t know if it’ll have any effect, because I’ve tried before, but we’ll see.”

The bus honks as it pulls up, and students scattered around the parking lot get ready to board. “Here’s to all the time we spent prepping,” Enjolras says, grabbing Combeferre’s hand and squeezing it. 

Combeferre grins. “Let's show these kids how Model UN debate is done.”

They file onto the bus slowly, people stopping to argue over seats. At the back of the line, Enjolras glances around the parking lot and sees an oddly familiar green hoodie draped over a bench outside the door to the school auditorium.

_It can’t be._

He walks away from Combeferre, almost in a trance, and starts half-running towards the bench. “Enj, what’s going on?” Combeferre calls, worried. Enjolras picks up the hoodie, desperately examining it — 

_A small ‘R’, hand-stitched on the upper left of the chest._

“Oh my god,” Enjolras whispers.

“Enjolras, we have to go!” Combeferre yells, and he’s suddenly next to Enjolras, tugging on his wrist as the bus starts to close its doors. Enjolras fumbles the hoodie, drops it onto the bench and clutches at the air as Combeferre turns him around and practically pushes him towards the bus. They just barely make it up the stairs before the doors seal shut.

“‘Ferre — you — it —” Enjolras stutters, and his bag drops to the floor as his hands slacken. Combeferre guides him down the aisle as the bus driver fiddles with the radio. “No, I have to go back — I can’t —”

Combeferre brings him to their seats, and Enjolras throws himself down, raking his fingers through his hair. He sees a flash of movement and hears muted laughter, and he peers through the window frantically — 

Two people are walking toward the bench: the girl from the computer lab so long ago, and another person silhouetted by the sunset. Enjolras squints against the glare, tries to make out the figure’s face as he walks forward — _walks forward and picks up the hoodie._ He turns around, and Enjolras hears himself gasp.

_It’s R._


	10. Realizations

Enjolras dives for his bag, hands scrabbling through folders and papers as he searches for his phone. He can faintly hear Combeferre asking questions, but he hears a rushing in his ears and his vision is blurring as he tosses things on the floor in his search. He freezes. “Combeferre, my phone,” he groans. “‘Ferre, I left my fucking phone back in the parking lot, and I have to email R and just —  _ fuck _ , how could I have just left it?”

“Enj, what the hell is going on?” Combeferre asks, kneeling next to him in the bus aisle. People are chattering all around them, but all Enjolras focuses on is the light reflecting off of Combeferre’s glasses, showing his own face, pale and panicked.

“R is here — at our  _ school _ ,” Enjolras says, shocked and ecstatic all at once.

“Ah.”

“You … why aren’t you reacting?”

“Well …” 

“You  _ knew _ ? You’ve known this whole time and you didn’t tell me?” Enjolras pauses. “ _ That’s  _ why you’ve all been acting so weird this whole time! Our entire friend group knew?”

“It turns out that Jehan is one of his friends; Courf realized a while back and wanted everyone to keep it a secret. We honestly didn’t think it’d take you both so long. Cosette and Courf and I considered telling you after the …  _ incident,  _ but we ended up deciding it would be better to let you two realize on your own.”

Enjolras sits back on his heels, in complete shock. “This whole time …” 

“What are you going to do?” Combeferre asks cautiously.

“There’s nothing I  _ can  _ do, now that I was an idiot and left my phone back in the parking lot. I can’t even see if he replies or not.”

“First off, use my phone to text Cosette and ask her to get your phone before it’s stolen. Secondly, you can use it to check for an answer from R, but only if you promise you won’t get distracted from the conference. This is big, Enj; we’ve been working the whole year for this. Give yourself until opening night to think about what you’ll do, and then find him after the show’s over. Deal?”

Enjolras takes a deep breath. “Deal.”

\--

_ aRtist09@gmail.com _

_ February 13, 2019 11:22 AM _

**Mon Ange**

_ I’m constantly amazed that you can see the good in me. I mean, I know you say that you have flaws, but you’re so much better than anyone I know. Everything you’re saying is debatable at best, but I wouldn’t want to hear it from anyone else. _

_ Your ‘proving’ that you know me made me realize that you actually care (Before you ask, yes, I am oblivious, and it took Éponine reading all of our emails and Jehan hitting me in the head with a flute for me to understand and reply) _

_ You genuinely care about me and you’ve been here for me for every issue this year, and I know I haven’t known you for that long but you’re the light of my life. I’m ridiculously in love with you, which makes me realize that this’ll scare you off, but I need to get this off my chest.  _

_ I love you in a hopeless way. It’s like a damn celebrity crush. You’re unobtainable, Apollo. I could only dream of being with you. You are so amazing and you’re so far out of my league it’s almost sad. You’re gorgeous and kind and funny and insanely talented and an absolute dork, and I want to make you happy, but I know that there’s no way that we can have a decent relationship online. I needed to tell you I love you, and I’m sorry _

_ -Grantaire (hence, R) _ __  
__  
\--

“Yes, ‘Ferre, I know I promised not to answer, but I just … there’s no way I can’t, after he said all that. And conference is over, anyway, so what’s the harm?” Enjolras pleads, worrying at his lip.

Combeferre sighs. “Fine, good point. Go ahead.”

Enjolras almost fumbles Combeferre’s phone with how quickly he picks it up — he logs in to his email, taps the reply button — 

_ No Service. _

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

\--

The minute their bus inches to a halt in the school parking lot, Enjolras is on his feet and sprinting down the aisle. Combeferre follows behind him, apologizing to everyone he runs into. Enjolras jumps down the stairs and runs over to Cosette, who’s waiting at her car with his phone in hand and a massive grin across her face. “I’m so,  _ so  _ glad you finally know,” she laughs breathlessly as he squishes her in a hug. “He’s amazing, E. You’d better make this reveal romantic enough to justify all the flirting you two have been doing since August.”

“Oh, believe me, he has a plan,” Combeferre says dryly. “We went through it together at least five times on the ride back.”

“Where to?” Cosette asks, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“The art store,” Enjolras declares.

\--

Enjolras slides into the pit right as the audience is starting to trickle into the auditorium. He can’t resist turning back to gaze at the booth, where the lighting cues are being tested and he can see shadows moving behind the control panels. 

_ R could be up there right now. _

Enjolras turns around when he feels someone straightening his collar — Courfeyrac is in front of him, beaming as he grabs Enjolras’s hands. “You look fantastic, E,” Courfeyrac coos, pretending to swoon.

“Thanks, Courf,” Enjolras smiles, only realizing he’s shaking when Courfeyrac takes his hands.

“Listen, Enj, you know him so well. You’ve talked to him almost every day for months; you have disgusting couple pet names already, for goodness’ sake. We’re both gonna smash this show, and then you’re going to go tell R how you feel and you’ll make out and then you can have your flirty banter in person constantly.”

“Sounds perfect,” Enjolras says nervously. “Let’s just hope it works out like that. Oh, and Courf?”

Courfeyrac turns around, pauses from fixing his leather jacket as he heads backstage.

“You’ll have to tell ‘Ferre how you feel soon, or I’ll make a bet on you two.”

Courfeyrac’s face flushes violently, and he rushes backstage muttering about foundation and stage lighting.

This is it.

Just get through the show, and then …

_ R. _


	11. Finale

The show goes off without a hitch, though Enjolras almost misses his cue several times while he’s marveling at the set pieces — he’s more inclined to pay attention now that he knows they’re R’s, and particularly to the car prop, which he knows was a complete reconstruction as of two days ago. Courfeyrac and Cosette take their bows along with the rest of the cast, Combeferre congratulates the pit players, and before he knows it he’s swept out of the auditorium to the after-show reception.

He sneaks back into the auditorium an hour later and crouches behind the last row of seats, searching for the bag he’d hidden there earlier. The flowers are wilted, damnit, and the wrapping paper’s a little crushed, but there’s no going back now.

Enjolras is just about to head back out to the reception to find Jehan and ask them where R would be when someone trips onstage from the wings while carrying the ghost light, letting out a curse. The person crouches down, fiddling with one of the stage lights, and Enjolras feels his bag gently thud to the floor.

It’s R, looking somehow both just like he did at the beach and completely different at the same time. The dim stage lights play on his face, shadowing his jaw, and his tongue sticks out between his lips as he tinkers with the light. His beanie is gone — his dark curls fall around his face, hiding his eyes, and he scratches the back of his neck as he sighs.

Enjolras clears his throat.

“So, that car prop worked pretty well for being a last-minute reconstruction, huh?” he calls, a slight quiver to his voice, and he pads down the aisle towards the stage. He can tell R doesn’t recognize his voice, sees him squint from where he’s blinded by the light.

“Ah, so news of the catastrophe has spread around the whole school?” R responds dryly, and Enjolras feels a pang in his chest at the sound of his voice. “I didn’t know freshmen called out upperclassmen, these days.”

“I’m not quite that young, though I am short,” Enjolras counters, reaching the end of the aisle and peering up at R, who’s sat above him on the edge of the stage. “The height difference is even more pronounced now,” he says softly.

He takes in every detail of R’s face: how his eyebrows scrunch up, how his neck flushes a bit, how he almost drops the light he’s holding before setting it down. Breathing quickly, Enjolras fishes in the bag at his feet, pulling out a bouquet of hyacinths and thrusting it out. “I got you these,” he stammers. “They wilted while I was playing in pit, but hopefully they’re still ok? And —” he shoves the flowers into R’s open hands, ducks down to the bag again — “these are watercolor paintbrushes, so you have an actual excuse to get them soaking wet,” Enjolras rambles as he gingerly places the gift into R’s hands on top of the flowers.

Silence. He can hear the stage lights buzzing, see the curtains swishing from a draft.

“R?” _  
_ R suddenly moves, placing the flowers and the gift to the side. He slides off the edge of the stage, feet thudding on the carpet, and steps closer. His eyes are darting around Enjolras’s face like he’s trying to commit him to memory, and his lips are parted slightly. R’s hands come up to gently hold his face — Enjolras can feel the calluses on R’s fingers pressing against his jaw, can feel his own pulse pounding. 

“Can I — étoile, can I kiss you?” Enjolras whispers.

R tries to speak — clears his throat, bites his lip and closes his mouth. Enjolras realizes R is crying — tears trickling down his temples and vanishing into his hair — and Enjolras leans forward, brushing the tears away. “It’s ok, ma chérie, it’s ok,” he murmurs. “I’m just so glad to see you. I missed you so much.”

R’s hands are still cupped around Enjolras’s jaw — he slips one up and into Enjolras’s hairline, slowly twisting his fingers in his hair. He traces a finger across Enjolras’s lips before tugging him upwards, taking a hand off his face to curl around his waist and stretch him  _ up up up  _ — 

R kisses him, and he feels himself sigh into R’s mouth, tilting his head and tipping forward. Enjolras’s hands dart up, clutching at R’s shoulders, and he can hear R gasp a little as Enjolras presses himself against him. He can smell the lingering scent of paint that he caught on R when they first met, feel his own lips curve into a smile and make the angle awkward, but he’s far too happy to care.

It’s a simple kiss, just lips on lips, but Enjolras can feel  _ months  _ in the kiss — laughing fits, teasing, art, banter, stress and worry and anxiety that’s all worth it to learn as much as they can about each other (and fall in love through 3am debates, early “good mornings”, French nicknames that start as a joke but become more and more real —  _ star _ ,  _ darling _ , it’s all so painfully true).

“I’m sure that’s the quietest you’ve ever been,” Enjolras laughs lightly, fingers pressing against his lips as he reluctantly pulls back. “R —”

He’s cut off as R crushes him in a hug. He can feel the scratchy texture of the embroidered ‘R’ on the hoodie pressing against his cheek, feels a light pressure as R places a kiss on top of his head. “Oh my god, Enjolras — mon ange, I —  _ how _ ?” Enjolras leans back after squeezing R around the waist, slowly runs his fingertips over R’s hands.

“So apparently we’ve been at the same school from the beginning, and all our damn friends knew from the moment Courfeyrac met you while looking for the backstage stairs and recognized your  _ shoes,  _ of all things — though the shoes are lovely, I don’t know how anyone could forget how gorgeous you are — and he proceeded to tell Jehan, and the two of them made a bet with your Éponine and the rest of my friends as to how long it would take us to realize? I can’t even get over how  _ dumb  _ we were — the coincidences of both our schools doing  _ Grease _ , and the red paint on the stage and the car prop malfunctions and just —  _ god _ . Then they felt like it was taking too long but they didn’t know what to say or how to bring it up, so they did absolutely nothing and left us to flirt over email —  _ honestly _ , so rude — but then I recognized your hoodie outside the auditorium right as we were leaving for the conference, and I wanted to email you so badly, but I’d left my phone in the parking lot, and Combeferre convinced me to tell you on opening night, so … here we are?”

“Ange, I meant ‘how’ as in ‘how are you such a good kisser’, but that works too,” R grins, lips kiss-pink. His hand drifts up to cup Enjolras’s cheek, thumb sweeping over his eyelashes as he blinks.

“Oh … well, I haven’t actually done it that much. I might need some practice,” Enjolras says innocently, turning his head to place a kiss on R’s palm.

“I’m more than willing to be practiced on,” R hums, eyes fixed on Enjolras’s lips.

Enjolras leans up to teasingly kiss the corner of R’s mouth. “And after … I’ll take that day off that you mentioned so long ago, and we’re going on a date. If you’ll have me, of course,” he adds quickly.

“How could I ever say no to someone so cute?” R laughs, kissing his nose. Enjolras goes cross-eyed when he tries to look at R, and he has to crane his neck to see him when he leans back. 

“It’s really quite rude that you’re so tall,” Enjolras grumbles. “I’m going to develop neck problems from trying to kiss you.”

“Oh, we can’t have that,” R teases. “Trust me?”

“Trust you on what?”

R smiles at him, eyes dark and laughing, and Enjolras shrieks as R bends down and scoops him up, making his head spin. “Now, I believe I was promised more kissing practice?” R says pointedly.

Enjolras links his arms at the back of R’s neck, tangling his fingers in his hair. “I can happily oblige,” he beams. 

\--

_ aRtist09@gmail.com  _

_ August 17, 2019, 7:18 AM _

**Good morning, Angel**

_ How has your summer been? Personally, I’ve had a fantastic summer, thank you very much. I’ve been dating the cutest, happiest, most passionate person I’ve ever met. Of course, you know that already.  _

_ We went to my aunts’ new place for two months this summer, and I’ve never been happier than when I woke up next to him. We spent most of our time in the ocean and at the beach (I swear, for such a small person, he gets so sunburned) and every night at the boardwalk. I kicked his ass in the stupid ballon pop game and forced him to go on roller coasters again — and he screamed again. It wasn’t until this trip that I truly realized how much I love him. _

_ I hope you’ve been having as much fun as I am, and I can’t wait to see you when you finally wake up, because for such a sleep-deprived squirrel, you sleep LATE in the summer. _

_ With love, _

_ R _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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**Author's Note:**

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